Doubt Was Born Mcmlxxi Poem by Terry Collett

I opened the shutters
to my window
in the abbey at 5am
and smelt the fresh dew
on the grass of
the garth below,

Deus in omnibus,

touched the old crucifix
on the wall above my bed
felt the pierced feet,

Dio in noi e con noi
the Italian monk said
as I helped him
in the workshop
cleaning brass fittings
for the church,

I kissed her soft fruit
but it was no apple
like Eve's and I no Adam,

there are some
who want knowledge
for the sake of knowledge
but that is Curiosity
and there are some
who want knowledge
so they can be known
by others that is Vanity
and there are those
who want knowledge
so that they can serve
and that is Love
St Bernard said,

I watched as Hugh
walked to the refectory
grim faced and fingering
his rosary with an angel
at elbow and demon
at foot or so seemed,

à la fin du péché
de jour est le péché
the French monks said to me
as we scythed the grass
by the long drive
to the abbey,

I climbed her peaks
as we lay in her bed,

I opened the book
by St Augustine which
a priest in London
recommended along
with the poet Hopkins
and I remembered being
served tea and cakes
by a nun who worked
along side him,

George swept the cloister
as the hoover
had packed up
dat is beter
het is rustiger
a Dutch monk said to him,

she spread her legs
like a butterfly and said
take and have your fill
so I did,

nolite iudicare
ut non iudicemini
so it said some place
in the Gospels,

the price good men pay
for indifference to public affairs
is to be ruled by evil men
Gareth said quoting
from Plato as we sat
in the novice room
awaiting Dom Joe,

I wanted to sense
God's breath on my neck
as I bowed my head to pray
but sensed only
a cold wind in the church
on a 5.30am dawn
and doubt was born.