Altar Stone Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Inspired by Joan Utley

Silent flow, sweet river Wye,
banks upon lay ruins curst;
watching years of mankind's fears,
Cistercian sect now lays;
simplicity, once ruled living's principles,
human souls in each so versed;
obedience, poverty, chastity, prayer,
did living, and each life comprise.

What ends such gracious themes,
buying death to living's bonds;
cast humane nature's to knee,
stones to ruins, as now found;
questions give not answers,
for such, cleave hallowed ground;
upon earth is ghostly rise,
giving seethe to death now crowned.

New birth opens passages,
faith yet walks upon Nave lawn;
night's full moon arises,
stones, drape lasting death's prone fawn;
darkened shadows fly,
as dreaded multitudes praise spawn;
glean, in thirsts for life,
chills feed, midnight's carrion.

In dark night shuffle souls,
chosen of mind's last breaths;
rancid memories, in lives of men,
remembered not, as such was Seth;
in silent offers, gist a shadowed life,
stepping stormy dance of death's;
speaks, of frights in murmured parse,
empathetic letter, heth.

Center stood in mist,
a fetid theca covered altar stone;
once held sway in faith's gift,
now lost, soul's lyrics croon bemoans;
calling out to heaven, in life's search,
one prays that man atones;
reap in quietness' strength,
causes death's swallow, to dethrone.