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If There Were Words
(On hearing Ex Cathedra sing)
Pure notes ring. They prise a hole in air.
I’m slipping through… I am – I am not there
my veil of flesh is cast out on a prayer
and joy knows no resistance.
I’d like to say how I am lost and found
held safely in this sanctity of sound
oblivious to beating hearts that pound
the drumming of the iambs of existence
but words are clichéd bells cast out of clay,
they clang, they chime in rounds; they cannot play
the lambent lamentations of this day
as grace notes of a choir seduce the silence.
If there were words, new words, then I would say
how your sweet music bears my soul away
but words are battered down; worn out by day.
Julie Boden
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