Poetry of the Month - September

Welcome to the September 2008 Poetry of the Month page.

The Last Monk

The sun rises like a commandment
blood red and centered on the small sash window to my cell
which is three paces by four
wall to wall.

I think of the last monk who slept in this place
Its white washed walls reflecting his silent prayers
and the shadows outlining memories of genuflection
one knee bent to the cold flagged floors

And then maybe the fresh breeze from the sea
catching his robes as he made his way down the imperfect steps
past the olive bushes
to that Holy place
to chant and sing with friends
as I do today.

© Chris Hoskins 2008