#altham

The church was very old,

squatting among dark trees

waiting for its millennium.

  The child knew nothing of its history

but felt romance in the musty smell,

found magic in summer

when the late sun slanted through the windows.

  There were stories told;

stories that had lessons;

Love and Tolerance,

Peace and Forgiveness.

  The child skipped away

between the tumbling gravestones,

delighted in a world that held such virtues,

full of good intentions,

failing often

but always hopeful.

      The church is still there.

  The adult knows its troubled history

and talks of Power and Politics,

debates the Rights and Wrongs of various Heresies.

  And turns to Current Affairs.

  The child in the adult,

so well-grounded in the simple lessons,

still so well-intentioned,

is labelled “conscience”

and considered too naïve to speak.