St. Joseph’s
There is a Gothic church
With a tall and slender spire
In the old section of the city,
That seems to float
In lighter than air fashion
Toward heaven as if the
Stones themselves are
Moving toward God.
I have never been inside,
But each time I pass
I say to myself that one
Day I will stop to say
A prayer there.
I have Been promising this prayer
For many years.
There is a Gothic church
With a tall and slender spire
That is a baroque concerto
Frozen in stone and mortar.
I must go there one day,
Walk through the center portal
Under the large rose window,
Hearing my footsteps on the
Tiled floor of the nave echoing
From vaulted ceilings,
Enter a pew near the altar
And kneeling, hands folded,
Head bowed, let my prayers
Float like stones.
There is a Gothic church
With a tall and slender spire
In the old section of the city,
That seems to float
In lighter than air fashion
Toward heaven as if the
Stones themselves are
Moving toward God.
I have never been inside,
But each time I pass
I say to myself that one
Day I will stop to say
A prayer there.
I have Been promising this prayer
For many years.
There is a Gothic church
With a tall and slender spire
That is a baroque concerto
Frozen in stone and mortar.
I must go there one day,
Walk through the center portal
Under the large rose window,
Hearing my footsteps on the
Tiled floor of the nave echoing
From vaulted ceilings,
Enter a pew near the altar
And kneeling, hands folded,
Head bowed, let my prayers
Float like stones.
Poem: "St Joseph's" by
© Doug Tanoury 2003
All Rights Reserved
Reprinted here with permission
Read Doug Tanoury's poetry here.
