RS Thomas’s last church
did he melt into the stones
brush the warmth from the wooden pews
leave the light kneeling
the sun streaming
through the leaded windows
did he sail away across the calling
of the sea’s hollow lament
down the long vaulted turning
wall to wall that emptiness
filled at his last behest
Lovely poem. I really like the present participles - kneeling, streaming, calling, turning - they create such a strong elegaic feeling, and a sense of yearning too.
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