Liturgy for a Young Woman

Liturgy for a Young Woman


Heavy wooden doors heave open,

My footfalls light on flagstone floors,

The midnight mass begins.

Communion of worldly and holy,

Hold me rapt in this ghostly abode,

Every day, placing in my mind

The pews, the altar, and

Whispers of pipe organ screams.

Sacrilege by the

Litany of my days and

Wickedness of my nights.

Dirty laundry in the vestibule,

Wrung out in the dark corners

Where the flesh and spirit are weak.

Afraid to speak or rouse the dead

Who walk with bowed heads,

Swift feet and swifter scorn

For those who have scarred the sacred

With eternal sins and devious ends,

And trading long days for indulgences,

I turn the key to find imperfect peace,

A one window cell inwardly framing

A stained-glass sanctuary,

A raison d'etre.

Laying down my burden,

Caring for all and for nothing,

In this place I am lost, and yet

I feel sublime, and it is time for

Benedictions of the working girl,

Prayers of abject youth,

Petitions of hope, and

Vespers in the dark.


~Darkling Plain, Aug. 24, 2006