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The ruins of the abbey stretched out
Before our small band of travelers Seven of us at war with ourselves and each other. Awed by the grandeur of Canterbury Awed by what had been rather than what was We explored the grounds in pairs and alone. A marker for Augustine On his own mission fourteen centuries ago At rest now in a foreign land. Ancient rocks outlined hallways and sanctuary Remnants of archways framed an altar in the afternoon sun We scrambled over walls with cameras and wide eyes. Pictures, scattered laughter, and silence amid lengthening shadows We sat on the grassy rise above the ruins in the cool, English summer afternoon Relaxing on the edge of history. And for just that moment peace reigned Oblivious to the endings and beginnings that lay ahead For that moment we were truly alive, suspended in time. No anger, no arguments, no fear Surrounded by our own company, the ruins in front, the hedges behind Another band of Chaucer’s pilgrims finding shelter. The train leaving soon for London We slipped out the gate quietly into the evening chill Peace lingered, though not nearly as long as the memory. |
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