Last winter I watched the sun rise Then set Each day for a month. Woke and slept Into the darkness. Snow fell On the twenty fifth night, We walked distractedly Around the town Seeking meanings on pavements, Windowpanes and roadsigns. I found little Except ice Yellow lines And parking spaces Then the church enticed me; I dreamed of vestments Attended services Holy Communion, Evensong, Saw vicars and curates, Parishioners and believers. I remember little of it now, Except the loneliness of the prayers And the cold coloured light Through mediaeval stained glass: We sat at the back And tried not connect, Soon we learned that Resistance is hard But not always right. Often, fire came from the pulpit, The reverend was angrily determined To proclaim the resurrection And submission to absolute love. I prayed for understanding, But got disjointed words Hidden by masonry, Amplified by empty pews. The wine did not taste of blood Nor the bread of flesh, And the hymns Were disappointingly insipid. Slowly, my personal liturgy Took over. Praise the Lord Because he could have made Our anguish worse; Venerate his name Because we can believe In nothing else. Praise the Son We suffer from Manageable pain Venerate his name And his rebirth Believe in this Or nothing else. Praise the Spirit Because our lives Are not always hell Venerate the Trinity: You have no alternative To my truth and my way.