Her head bowed down low
Hair brushed back
She does not look up
her breathing inaudible
Light streams in
through the smattering
of coloured windows
while beams of sunlight
gently caress her skin
The ambience of loneliness
and echoes of time
embrace her like a child
and whisper their empty greetings
But, she pays no attention
to the sounds and movements
directed at the parishioners
for her heart has wandered
onto another path
Her eyes looking down
Her gaze sombre, a frown
whilst her lips utter phrases
as if offering a silent prayer
Her fingers, back and forth
twitching, never ceasing
as she holds her words
in her hands
And the beads ’round her neck
swaying from side to side
She looks t’wards the light
and her face is brightened
as she brings her truth
closer to herself
The light not from above
but from what she holds
in her palm:
On her device of religious devotion,
never leaving her hand or mind,
she types in her Facebook password
and leaves the real world behind.
© The Drummer Poet
21/11/2012
