
The little organ still the same. The photo was taken in 2015
The Taste & Touch of Grace
Just as it truly is, a small and wondrous worshipping place;
Remove all artificial growth. Leave no trace –
So that I may fill in all past and precious detail;
The sound, the smell; the taste and touch of grace.
The door was never locked, no key to turn.
A child, I’d enter there, an eager, tender heart affirm.
On a stool, I’d sit quaint organ keys to test.
This after-school sunset hour, a joyful hour for my return.
I’d kneel at the altar and make a little prayer.
No one ever entered and found me there.
Oft’, rather than enter I’d sit on the nearby bridge.
Neighbours listening: at dusk, I sang in the evening air.
I just happened to be living close, that church not mine.
Seldom used now, though not through the years left in decline.
This painting on my wall holds sweet sights I recall,
A row of trees extremely tall; the musky smell of pine.
I dream of that little church I see so seldom now.
Again fresh painted, when down that lane my slumbers slow.
The old red cottage demolished, an ugly grain barn built.
But church and those dear memories through my dreams and senses flow.
Benita H. Kape © 16.2.2019

My nephew, a joiner, makes repairs to the pews
Oh! This is so tender and wondrous! The images of childhood and how you give grace the attributes of the senses – superb. I had to smile at the line about the neighbors listening to the singing of a child in the evening – I did that, too 🙂
Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem!
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So glad you liked it and that it bought back memories for you
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It sounds like such a lovely memory!
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It was my happy place as a child. So sad to see both gate and church door now kept locked.
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the setting so beautifully told and i felt the deep connection to this place of grace
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So pleased it gave grace to you too Gina.
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I can see this in Reminisce magazine or Good Old Days magazine. Or one of the *many* senior citizen mags.
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Thank you Susan.
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I like your description of that church and this line: “The door was never locked, no key to turn.” Even better that it was not locked because there was no key.
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It is such a joy that my nephew sent me these pictures Frank.
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This is so lovely, and the photos added a great deal to the feel of it.
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