Mourning my lost faith
I’m sitting in my favorite church
This Sunday afternoon
Beside the carving of Newman
The champion of the conscience.
I miss the many times I spent
In prayer and contemplation
Of the final times and truths
In this venue, in this very pew.
I miss the Taizé Mass on Sunday evening
The chapel lit with candles warmed by faith
And simple hymns that lifted the soul
That gave the mind some space.
All alone in the quiet chapel
As the clock turns four p.m.
And this winter evening
Draws to a quiet close.
The Church of the Assumption in Dalkey
The heart of the village and its Centre
Where all our children were christened
We returned at Christmas and Easter.
The faith of an old generation
Now dying away in their droves
As Ireland enters a new age
Finding its way as it goes.
The light is dying I’m afraid
The stained glass windows grow dim
I head back into the street
Where couples are holding hands.
The faith I no longer practice
Brought out the best in me
Proving, if needed, that life
Isn’t always a cup of tea.
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