Notes from Bilbao Cathedral

A poem

Through a stone arch, we passed stone
worn smooth, we passed
into the great cathedral, into sacred space
we passed,

My very being is questioning quietly, the gold
the rich merchants tomb,
we passed, the devout or profane enshrined
in stone,

We passed deep dark timber pews, offering
no comfort yet we sit
instinctively we bless ourselves, habits
of a life,

The majesty of these moments will pass
like this candle lit
for you dear friend Mary,
we see the flame flicker and burn bright
while we passed,

The cathedral remains solid, impervious to
time and the cold spring rain.

Chris Papps