Hosanna

as a child

I saw you in that golden time

believed your stories, parables

sang your songs

I loved you unreservedly

whispered prayers

to save my family and friends

sought not to see your face

hold your robes, touch your hand

knowing was enough, faithful

then you let me go

amongst foreign tongues

the grey-bearded science

the seers the oracles

the sirens the warriors

teachers athletes lovers

armed with chisels, hammers

calloused hands

that shaped and cut and polished

that emerging man

now dimmed, frail, pensive

searching for forgotten paths

long buried by

the chippings, shavings, dust

shed in a lifetime’s quest

for the meaning of it all.

Published by grahamrsherwood