Mass Of The Resurrection { Processus Silenti } Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Mass Of The Resurrection { Processus Silenti }..............


The Crucifer marched solemnly,
as he led the great procession
of the Mass for the now departed
with such stilled, heavy silence,
you could hear the smoke crisp
from the dripping torched wicks;
white wax, tips ablaze;
spiraling towards the Gothic lamps,
curling, ascending
with serpentine wave,
over shimmering brass handles,
connected to polished mahogany,
carried by six altar boys,
tightly, as the cortege marched
starchly, like Roman soldiers
to the skull of the quiet Church,
the House of The Holy One
within the dark, hallowed confinds
of the sacred Tabernacle,
where The Hosts and Blessed Sacrament
are safely in despose...
in preparation for The Supper of The Lamb.

Served this day, a special Mass
one that only comes by Death;
The Mass of The Resurrection will pass
afore the teary eyes of those
living beyond the one who died
too painfully soon before them.
And, as the coffin past our pew,
I heard somebody whisper:
'We were all born to die; makes no sense to me;
why be born at all if our ends cannot be altered'?
Then I heard a second voice reply, softer, yet clarion:
'We were born to serve until we die,
for it is this, and only this
that Life be yours forever'.

I turned my head to acknowledge.

No-one was there.




© 2014-All rights reserved
_Frank James Ryan, Jr._