Lost In God Mcmlxxi Poem by Terry Collett

A monk pushed
a wheelbarrow
along the narrow path
in the abbey grounds
giving off
squeaky sounds,

perdidit in Deo
sitting in the abbey church
gazing at
the hanging tabernacle
where Christ resided,

dove Cristo è stato
a metal globe
hanging from chains
from the church roof
the priest monk
pulled down and opened up
during mass and held up
the host and said
ecco l'Agnello di Dio,

lost in God
Dom Thomas said
in prayer
and contemplation
and he sat
in the old armchair
in my room
hands forming
a church like structure,

estructura similar
a una iglesia
his hairy hands
and fingers
talking of contemplation
his tonsured head
shone in the overhead light,

perdido en dios
and the Crucified
above my bed
and the old brown cross
and plaster Christ,

perdido en dios
smell of incense
especially after Mass
hung in the air
like a woman's perfume,

she held me close
and kissed my forehead
and said
come to bed
so I did,

entertaining a thought
without accepting it
Gareth said
quoting Aristotle
is sign
of a trained mind,

the host held high
and the Austrian monk said
Körper von Christus
and ate the white host
after breaking,

lost in God
or so tried
excepting at times
he stayed lost
to my soul
or mind's cost.