Pentecostal Gloss
https://youtu.be/73H9NzvOUYo
An eloquent hush, like the hollow space before an exhalation. Puissant, penitent murmurs, echo from mounting waves, sandstone monoliths, formed in an age before God was born.
Fluted pipes call the worthy to prayer.
In blessed upheaval, gold gilt epithets
surround Christ,
crowned with stained glass,
casting ephemeral light
drawing the faithful to mass.
While in the corner he hangs, pegged out in the wind. Washing drying in the heat of belief. Hollowed out, bored, enlaced by a millennia of termites warring, a Teak schism in that dead space. Now, petrified, empty, drained.
Meanwhile, priests smile warmly, mothers hug children to their breasts. The hallowed space wells up with the call, stained glass casts azure frost, pentecostal Gloss, to annul the yearning, to make sense of it all.
The photos used in this post and the YouTube poetry reading are my own original photography.
If you have enjoyed this poem you can check out my other work on my homepage @raj808. Thanks for reading/watching 🙂🌿
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