Spring Mass Poem by guillermo veloso

The twist in my side
Like an unwelcome touch
Marks a mortality
Felt with sincerity
The cardinal chortles a mass that I
Am not prepared for
Starlings quiver and chitter in their pews
This church of God spins beneath
My congregation of
Birds, trees and bugs

My generation in motion passes the old and the new
Looking back and looking forward
Still this church of God spins, still
I would be a puddle gathering the rain
I would be as earth and gather bones
I cannot cease
I am not cooed by mourning doves
This procession shall pass
And all will follow