No Noise No Sound 1971 Poem by Terry Collett

There were flowers
by the statue
of the Madonna
in the cloister
as I went past each day
fresh flowers
not drooping or faded,

communis mater,

Hugh thin and poker-faced
spoke about the cloister
being our Jerusalem
and we to follow
in the Lord's footsteps,

many of those
who are humiliated
are not humble
Bernard said
they react to humiliation
with their anger
others with patience,

Deus est Core
Dom Matthew said
as we spoke after lunch
in the gardens,

George said of the cold
how it got to his bones
at night and would
he stay or leave,

confiance en Dieu
the French monk said to me
as we picked vegetables
for the kitchen
trust trust he said,

we are what we
repeatedly do
excellence then
is not an act
but a habit
said Gareth
quoting Aristotle
over afternoon tea
in the garth,

and she lay there
wanting me to lay
beside her
and make love,

the smell of incense
in the church after Mass
made me feel
close to God
even on dark days,

Dio ci ama
the Italian monk said
on our Thursday walk
and that love he said
is the best love ever,

the bell tolled
from the bell tower
and rang out
through the cloister,

in my cell I had
the confessions of St Augustine
and poems by Hopkins
recommended by that priest
I met the year before
and a nun waited on us
hand and foot quiet
like some modern day Martha,

thrust into me
she said
enter me with joy and I did
her husband off
some place unaware,

vous ne pouvez pas mentir à Dieu
the French peasant monk said
as he wheeled the barrow
over hard ground,

I watched the moon descend
through the window
no noise
no sound.