Abbey Visitation Mcmlxviii Poem by Terry Collett

Incense in the abbey church
old monk in choir stall
mediating in the stillness
and silence
I watched
his tonsured head
bowed,

Ipse primus in pace
et tunc alios
quoque pacem
Thomas A Kempis
in Imitatione Christi
so I read,

common room
warm and cosy
book case
old sofas
stood looking down
into the cloister
just the tick ticking
of the clock,

la foi croit quelque
chose de vrai sans
preuve ou preuve
the French monk said
in the guests'
breakfast room
after lunch,

if there was proof
or evidence
we wouldn't need faith
the Colonel said,

plainsong Vespers
sensing the world
beyond the high windows
voices chanting
from choir stall
to choir stall
back and forth,

prayer è operazione
spirituale
con il Creatore
del Cielo e della Terra
Italian monk said
quoting Spurgeon
as I helped him
weed the cloister beds,

a spiritual transaction
is prayer with God
he translated for me
his fingers covered in earth
his dark eyes on me,

cloister in evening
walking with moonlight
causing shadows
where moon left untouched
and peacefulness
and a feeling of sanctity,

faith is accepting
without proof
Dom Joe said
and I conjured
these thoughts
like a balls
in my young head.