There was so much space, cast in the old stone

And it rose upwards, towering over the altars

And catching each cross, each sarcophagus

That lined the walls, in flickering light. The candles

Cast themselves in tall shadows along the walls,

Across the dark wood of benches that had been

Pressed towards the floor, softened by hundreds of years

And thousands of people. There was spirit inside,

But ancient spirit, that whispered and almost passed you by,

It was so quiet. A lonely hymn carried it, in the swish of

Thick velvet curtains over the confessionals and the still

Sound of feet along the cobbled floor.

Outside, a man talked on his cell-phone and the pigeons

Jumped for bread crumbs and coins, but the open doors,

Fixed on their iron hinges and carved into the church

Let nothing out. And when I turned back, all I saw

Were the gargoyles, grinning and insane.