Son of Thomas
(A Church in Hollingbourne)
so silent here...
the afternoon sun streams through a high window
forming a tunnel of light in the darkened space.
these few empty wooden pews,
an epitaph deeply inscribed
on a patch of grey stone floor
are a small bright island
in shady abyssal waters
lit into strangely solid existence.
edges of forms are picked from amongst shadows
and carved into clarity by swords of light.
all this before me stilled into greater reality
by a profound silence, within and without
which permits only seeing.
here and now, in certain nakedness
before my eyes and behind my eyes
is that which is.