Share this story
Close X
Switch to Desktop Site


I sift through remains

of an old church, toppled

About these ads

by battles perhaps, or time.

I pick through foundation stones,

beams that held the vault,

shards of colored glass,

fallen statues.

Digging through rubble,

I bring up piece after piece,

About these ads

saving the sacred

for what is now


stone by stone,

pageantry and idols gone.

Now there is a quiet

sense of spirit

inside these simple walls

sweeping upward to a space

supported by beams

cracked but held together

by something strong,

everlasting and true.

Follow Stories Like This
Get the Monitor stories you care about delivered to your inbox.