So in Trinity Church we stalk
to the altar, then turn to admire
light shivering through the blue,
bottomless blue, that La Farge
embodied in the windows
placed high above the vestibule
to absorb the afternoon sun.
Braced in gloomy stone the blaze
of this implacable color frames
Jesus with two marble pillars
too formal to support the plain
colloquial ministry he preached.
But they hold and focus our gaze
for long moments, infusing
the blue deeply inside us.
Slumped in a pew we avoid
touching each other until
the heavens stop revolving.
The whole afternoon creeps forward
with a slow nervous movement.
What if blasphemous stones fell
and broke these elegant windows?
Would we still regard each other
with a deep-set silence impossible
for the organ to violate?
The windows further deepen.
Are we ready to slip outside?
The autumn sun has lowered
behind the Prudential Tower,
which thrusts into an atmosphere
breathed by ordinary people
among whom we’ll shine discreetly
with colors they’ve yet to explore.
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