Ecce Ancilla Domini.
Behold the Handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to Thy word.'
The Angelus
The bells from St. Mary's still rings in the twilight
though I am a million miles away
from my hometown in which I was raised.
I hear them this early evening,
somehow they ring out this end of day
that falls, lies, then drowns
into the waters off this big city river bridge
where I sit alone,
just thinking
across the river
Ophelia closes her shop
the books standing alone, now
in perfect attention
waiting to be held
waiting to be read
I understand the books
this river's light and its reflections hold me now
and that, that is good
like the light always seems to be
though its passing will silence
the mourning birds
deepening my melancholia
like the waters of this river....
still, for now
the light shines
as the Angelus Bells ring
the light dancing
across the waters of this wide river
(Mars and Venus ascending)
that sameness of light reflects
in the eyes, the smile of Ophelia
who closes the doors
on the books
in the shop
who wait to be held
who wait to be read
who wait to be understood
as we all do
or hope to
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poem by R. James Sterzinger
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