Sacred Spaces | A Poem

Sacred Spaces

I understand it was not for love of man was built

this house, but God.

I watch as upon each stone as token of toil

much blood and sweat was spilt.

Many miles by distant pilgrims were trod

to see Church take root in the grey and lifeless soil.


I see them get on their knees to pray

in the solemn shadow of cool, marble colonnades.

Pews whisper with devotion-filled solitude

regardless of season, night and day,

lured into quiet contemplation, hidden in the shade,

reeking of hope, desperation and gratitude.


I know this was a place once holy and rare,

but now the ghosts have moved on.

Only bones are left, forgotten crosses, broken tombs,

of gold and decoration bare.

God’s servants and sycophants all scattered, long gone.

Sacred spaces crumble, fall, return to earth’s womb.

4 Comments on “Sacred Spaces | A Poem

  1. Thoughtful, Ali – I love the interaction between nature and the physical remains of church. I love to visit these places- they always seem to be shadows of something more.


    • I know what you mean. They leave an imprint on the landscape which transcends the mere physical. Its the feeling you get when you stand there.


    • In Ireland, in a way, they are twice sacred I think, because the Christian holy places are often built on top of pagan holy places. Even if you dislike that the Christians did this, altogethet it must make these places very powerful.

      Liked by 1 person

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