mass

you miss the church
of your youth.
the priests
in their long robes,
the red candles
on fire for the sick
and dying.
the cross of christ
looming darkly
over everything.
mary in blue and white.
what little light
there was,
was broken
blue and red,
light yellows
through stained
glass, the stations
of the cross.
the incense burning.
you miss the hard
wooden pews,
and kneelers,
the old women
and men, bent
over their rosaries.
beating their
chests with curled
weak fists, their
faith undying.
you miss the mystery
of the language,
the strange pleadings
in latin
for forgiveness
and salvation.
you miss
the cloud of it all
owning you from
cradle to grave.