christmas eve

in the brittle cold
of christmas eve, on
a walk with little in
mind, but to sweat out
and stretch, to breathe
in the fresh air of an
old year at it's end,
i saw that the lights
of the church, at seven,
were on, and the parking
lot half full, so
i went in, into the place
where i had been so
many sundays and holy
days in my childhood.
and there was the altar,
the crucifix, the hard
pews of blonde wood,
candles burning and i
knelt alone with the small
gathering, finding
the remembered prayers
and the new ones that i
let fall from my lips,
confession of sorts,
thankfulness, gratitude
and a general all
encompassing prayer for
others. i have to admit
that it felt good, and
then the priest began
to speak, in spanish, of
which i had no clue, but
i stayed until the end
just the same.