St. Meinrad Seminary and School of Theology
5:30 AM - Home

Charles Peñalosa

I leave part of myself here
To keep the echoes company.
Here my shadow looks up and reads
Through the stained-glass windows
And mustard-lined arches.

Here each marble pillar has a story.
The alternating triangles on the floor
Serve as a compass pointing to him
Everywhere. And he
Is behind the layered rows of brass pipes,
The first to hear them ring.

Near the back, the lady waits for me.
She is dark and lovely.
The candle beside her
Flickers like a beating heart.
She stares at the one holding the book.

At dawn, the lamps gradually brighten.
The bells toll the death of night.
The bronze candlesticks melt away the year.
The font gargles with life.

Other shadows begin to sneak in
And occupy the oak stalls.
Their voices move from whispers to lullabies,
From dreams to reality.
Square notes wake up the sun.
I find myself resting
With the angels at his feet.

 


"The Last Sunset" by Robert Healey