The Choir
a poem by Caroline Jennings | Spring 2006

 

A choir boy sings a soft song
And the halls echo with pure flames

A man is softly weeping
Mary looks down on him
And sees sorrow

The choir sings of hope

A woman sits farther back
Holding a package in her hand
The remains of her son

A priest has lit the incense
Smells of mercy line the air

His shaking shoulders
Cannot release his tension
His furrowed brow straining

A single note, sustained

The woman’s eyes seem barely open
Even as she looks to Mary
They both hold their sons

The priest opens his Bible
Beginning to read

The cold stone floor
Rubs against his knees
His heart seems to pound out-loud

Mary’s golden crown glows

The woman cries, “Why?”
The man fell on the ground
And the startled priest dropped his book.

 

 


Caroline Jennings ’09