And the silence is full of pages
and joints creaking
and intermittent vibrations
and swallowing and
all the little noises bodies make
though they usually go unnoticed.

and the chapel is full of light
though it is half past 10:00
and all the world is sleeping
and all the lights are dimmed.

and the air is richer somehow
as I notice when I fall on my knees
and then bend to the ground
with my hood up over my head
and pray “come Holy Spirit” until I run out of praying
because when I sit up and breathe
something rushes into my lungs that is
sweeter than air
which is thin.

and love is thicker somehow
as we tabernacles gape to receive Him
and my brothers
who I see every blessed day:
Christ to me! Christ beside me,
Christ before me, Christ’s hand upon me
in the fire-glint of an other-Pentecost.

and time steals away into eternity
as a holy hour stretches into two
and two and a half
before anyone realizes it’s
gone.


This is day 3 of Labia Munda, a series of forty poems during the forty days of Lent. 

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