From my window I see the spires of the Cathedral
Mocking me—all churches are shuttered tight
We’ve reopened all the stores and malls
But not the place that calls us to God’s light
I miss handshakes, hugs, leaning in, chance meetings
And wonder if we ever get them back, as before
Kids grabbing donut holes and random Narthex greetings
Shopping inside our blessed Pennywise store.
I miss Father Jon’s sleeve and candle flame too close
David’s organ striking like lightening
The choir’s voices hitting all the notes
The sense of God’s presence ever heightening
I miss the bread and wine
That somehow becomes His Body and His Blood
I miss the Gospel stories and their signs
The Old Testament and the story of Noah’s flood
I long for a pot-luck in the Mary and Martha Ministry Center
Sitting at lunch with staff and stealing their popcorn
The Joy of Easter and the sanctuary’s newfound splendor
And Jon Strand blowing the saints march on his unearthly horn
So I make do with the virtual service
With Men’s Zoom study or God’s Word
With virtual choir members singing in earnest
All of them willing to be heard
I long to enter by the front façade
Be greeted like a long-lost friend
God bless Holy Comforter, my Lord, my God
And bring us back to gather, our hearts to mend
By Kip Brailey
