Sacred Heart.

This has been around for a while. I heard a story about how the Sacre Coeur cathedral had its windows removed during the war, so that they didn't get broken. But then, the cathedral was left open and vulnerable. The story got me thinking, and this poem happened. It's probably the closest thing to a love poem that I'm capable of writing.

Sacred Heart.

Where windows prove their hard remove,

Stained by ages glass

And lead must fall away

And open up.

It is, they say, the only way

To save them from the siege.

Else, victims of the raging war

Outside

They shatter.

Beauty gone.

Bright shields lost forever.

But-

Through vacant frames

Famed lights of old Montmartre

Steal in,

And air. Those lights

Eternal – patient, kind-

Before looked in

But did not force

Their entrance. Now,

Though, pure,

Unmediated,

Granted this first time.

But-

Here, does life belong?

Stone Heart has long been stone

That light and dust of life may mar,

Where scars of war the light may show.

Illumination, craved and feared,

Here never sought but found.

Though light, once light,

Will hold off dark.

No choice in that.

My love,

Then let light be.