Every Sunday we see them
walking down the aisle
bent and hobbled.
An elderly man leads
a wizened old woman.
“Here I am, Lord, if you need me,”
Tottering along behind,
the gray-haired son, head down,
slouched, uneven gait, slightly rumpled.
“It is well with my soul.”
They enter the pew, bow their heads in prayer.
The son rocks to-and-fro in a steady rhythm
throughout Mass.
“As the Father has loved me so I have loved you.”
Mass over, the family files out of the pew,
out of church, silent, they speak to no one
as the choir sings,
“’I love you, you are Mine’, says the Lord.”
Poetry above by Pat Kopanda, photography below by Frank Hubeny.
Linked to dVerse Open Link Night.
Cornfield During Winter
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 
I love the whole feeling of this–the simplicity of faith at its most powerful. And having lived in Indiana, the photo so well complements the poem.
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Thank you, Victoria!
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love this Frank
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Thank you, Maureen!
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Their silence intrigues me.
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Me, as well.
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Is this a post season corn field?
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Yes, the photo was taken in February of this year in northwestern Indiana. The corn has been harvested. Thank you, Nova!
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People touch our lives all the time without realizing it. (K)
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They do. Thank you, Kerfe!
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Interesting as i sway to the Music and even
the Meditative Rhythm as the Ritual the Priest in Mass
Vibrates at HiS own Rate iN Frequencies oF LiGHT whenever
The Choir Sings YOU as someone who doesn’t seem to longer
exist Loves YOU i always feel like i am Loving everyone in the
Congregation
as YOU as isn’t it
already obvious i love me
for what is left to do but Love YOU..
hmm.. when i take stuff like That Literally it feels so Good..:)
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There is nothing left to do but love. Thank you, Fred!
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Still working on it with Smiles..:)
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