Page 32 - HEF Pen & Ink 2022

From These Cathedral Spires By Keiran Boyle
Relentless scoffs.
Stained glass windows, reconstructed from Shining, but shattered souls.
“Can I pray for you?” No, thank you. Please, no.
“You have sinned,” they exhale,
But what is their sin?
Old men; no eye contact.
Old women; pitiful smiles,
Tears hanging on by only a prayer of hope. Hope for what? Surely not hope for me.
Father preaches his hope, he preaches his love. “The mass has ended. Go, in peace.”
But do they go in peace?
Do they leave with prophetic love?
No. They live with pathetic hate.
Dissonant fear echoes,
Like the eight mourning bells, reverberating. The words, ringing through my being, “You’re going to hell,” but did I ever leave?
This church is no promised land.
This building provides no sanctuary.
These pews offer no humility, no hope, no home. Scripture tells me I am a disgrace, but I wonder
Why shouldn’t Pride sing from these cathedral spires?
Melting Candles by Hailey Cox
By James Stafford
30
By Morgane Fourré