A poem processed in my mind during Mass:

 

Crows soar in-between high-arched rooftops,

Graves lie steadfast below, upon the wet grass

Next to the withered stained-glass, through raindrops

Thick beside the church, outside the damp window,

Where the monks have gathered for Mass. 

 

Oh, be joyful, for the coming of Spring, for Christ

Whose sacrifice we willingly participate, expectation

For the celebration, forgiveness of Sins, all rise

Giving thanks to Him, Our Lord Jesus Christ.

He Blessed this church, with monks singing their hymns.

 

Lord have mercy on us, hallelujah,

The Kingdom of God is close at hand.

Brothers and sisters, we pray for you, ah,

Dear Benedictines, most Holy, you make 

known your worship across the land. 

 

Our roof is not worthy of the Messiah,

But at his command, are we truly healed

By His body and blood, bestow peace on us

Go forth into the community with life’s zeal,

Souls torn open by the beauty of Salvation. 

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