A current runs through this red, red dust
this biblical place. Unmarked.
Just olive trees, and dust.
Land deceives. This is dry, not dead,
see the patches of grass, of tough, burnished gold
earth multiplies like fishes. Like loaves.
At the church door the wrought iron gate
gentrifies what’s nothing more
than a hole in the earth’s floor.
A sheen of stone, chipped bone, encircles you above.
Below, the centre of the earth falls away.
Your feet are wet. Pools of bloody clay,
gather unseen in the tunnel steps
seeping redness up between your toes.
There clings a church on a shelf to the left.
Six wooden pews. A slightly sunken cross,
askew, but then the land is too.
The church a dark chamber, a tiny ribcage,
inside golden icons are under-lit,
the exposed crater is floodlit,
its depths extinguishing all man-made light.
Pray silence for the crater’s edge
and the silent bell with the dangling rope
which sails in the breeze.
Wait. There’s phosphorus. Those candles were just lit.
There. Footsteps in the clay, recently pressed.
Listen. The watchful breath of the absent congregation.
You’ve no soul to hold, so hold your mind instead.
Hold it in both hands, go to the edge
and let the redness trickle in, by arteries, pathways,
wherever it is led.
Kirsty Gillies is a wage slave who writes poems and short stories whenever she gets a good idea. She wishes the good ideas would come more frequently…
11 Responses to “DIDIMA, THE CHURCH IN THE CRATER • by Kirsty Gillies”
Comments
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April 1st, 2009 at 3:22 am
Dully crafted, lacking feeling and rhythm and boring.
April 1st, 2009 at 6:21 am
I liked the feel of this. I appreciated many of the images, “The church a dark chamber, a tiny ribcage…”, in particular, with its implication of this church as a living thing, later strengthened with, “Listen. The watchful breath of the absent congregation.”
April 1st, 2009 at 8:32 am
A brilliant, detailed description, which seems to draw the reader in. Very vivid.
April 1st, 2009 at 10:36 am
Well crafted, filled with quiet awe and the powerful rhythm of worship. I could see this place so well, and feel it too. Thank you!
April 1st, 2009 at 2:29 pm
Such rich and vivid religious imagery that draws us into a historic place as well as a grand firing of faith in the human imagination
“hold your mind instead.
Hold it in both hands, go to the edge
and let the redness trickle in, by arteries, pathways,
wherever it is led.”
Glorious! Stunning!
April 1st, 2009 at 2:34 pm
Cheers for the useful feedback, guys. Much appreciated.
April 1st, 2009 at 5:49 pm
Fabulous ending–and flowed just right.
–dj
April 1st, 2009 at 10:33 pm
Kirsty, I really enjoyed reading your poem aloud. It is very dramatic and strongly grounded in the physical, and as the poem illustrates, it is physicality, after all, that houses spirit. -a good performance piece.
April 2nd, 2009 at 2:51 am
This is a wonderfully crafted poem, with so much rhythmic and visual appeal. Gave it a five, felt like giving more. Thanks Kirsty!
April 2nd, 2009 at 6:21 am
Well done, Kirsty.
“Six wooden pews. A slightly sunken cross,
askew, but then the land is too.”
I liked the rhyme here.
June 3rd, 2009 at 11:40 am
Kristy, I’ve been here. Not being metaphorical either. I’ve actually been to the crater in Didima, and stood in the church. I wasn’t bloody though. Have you been there?