Sunday services...

.


The bells ring and the doors open.
The congregation moves like a wave though the doors.
Each one dips their hand in the well to wash away the sins of the world
Then one by one they find their pew
They kneel
They pray.
To each God or not as to their custom
The prayers are the same.
"Please let them live."
"Please let them die."
Depending on the situation.
For one hour.
They pray.

Then the deacons call for the closing him.

"Visiting hours are over."

Silently the congregation files rises to their feet and file out of the pews.

They dip there hand into the well again

Say a silent good bye

And are on their way.

poem entitled Visiting Hours in the ICU

c anne ford
6 Feb 2011


I should have written it down this morning. This version is clunky.

Let me see if I can remember.


They come through the doors like a wave.
Nope can't use that because of the image.

Hmm


Visiting Hours @ the ICU V 2.o
Through the doors they come.
Dip their hands in the water.
Wash the sins of the world away.
All kinds.
One by one
One by one.
They fill the pews.
On their knees they pray.
"Please let them live."
"Please don't let them suffer."
"Please don't let them die."
The lessons of life and death are taught.
Then it's over with the words,
"Visiting hours are over."

c anne ford

6 February, 2011
This is closer to what I was thinking this morning. But still wordy.

I should have written it down but there were things to do.