A Temple, by Marjorie Allen Seiffert

A Temple

I. DOORWAY Carven angels
On the portals,
Angels with crowns, and eagles
And golden lions
On the door.   This is why
The alien worshippers went their way,
Why you alone discovered
The gates were open.   You touched the velvet curtains behind them,
They parted to let you pass. II. WINDOW I make a window
Of you, belovè d,
Through which the sun colours
The silence.   Even your absences
Are spaces I have filled
With sapphire;
Your denials
Are burning gold,
I have painted your reluctance
Emerald green:   Your silences
Are crimson
On which your words make delicate
Black tracery.   As for me,
My will is the grey lead
Which I have bent to hold the coloured
Panes of you. III. SPIRE My wish goes singing upward
Holding a chime of bells
In its heart:   Pigeons know my silent bells,
Winds touch them and wonder.   That they might reach
That high blue--   Till star fingers touch them
Ever so gently--   And drifting clouds
Lay cool cheeks against them--   My wish goes singing upward
Reaching into silence. IV. PRIEDIEU Beauty passes
But dust is eternal.
Outside the temple
Beauty dies in the wind.   So when my temple is fallen
And lies in dust,
Where then will be the memory
Of your beauty?   I pray my dust
That it may hold your image
Tomorrow and forever. V. FESTIVAL The belovè d is returning,
Let the bells ring!   I too am a tower
Hung with bronze bells,   I too am a bell
Chiming to the winds,   I too am the wind
Ringing to the hills,   I too am the hills
Singing to the sky.   I too am the sky!
The belovè d is returning,
Let the bells ring! VI. DUSK There is no soul too poor to build a temple
Where it may go apart
And worship darkness.   For out of darkness
Images shine.. And fade..   Since now there is no worship nor any music,
Let incense be a curved smile
On lips that remember,
And candles, notes of laughter
In empty dusk.   Above,
A coloured window slowly turns
Black to the night. VII. RUINS Temples have fallen
Before today,
Stones are ever loosening their hold
One on another..   You blocks of marble, sleeping in the sun,
Can you remember chiming bells
And incense?   Now there is only silence,
Even the wingè d stones of archways
Sleep in peace.

poems.one - Marjorie Allen Seiffert

Marjorie Allen Seiffert