In the wooden pews
In the candlelight.
In the slow ribbon of incense rising
Faces I have loved since childhood.
Hands reaching.
Nods across the aisle.
A sacred silence.
Every word finding its place.
Felt the presence of those who knelt here years ago.
Grandparents.
Aunts.
Uncles.
Cousins.
Neighbors.
Entire lives folded into this place-
woven through decades.
Distance has measured my years.
Another country.
Another language.
Another life.
Even so…
One step through those church doors and the thread remained un-torn.
Perhaps that is what stayed with me.
The feeling that a life is never held by one person alone.
It rests in many hands.
Many hearts.
Many voices answering together.
A beautiful inheritance
In memory of my cousin Frances
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