in the town you left behind

there’s a smear of dirt across his cheek

you stumble over long-dead train tracks

an ocean of grey over your heads

he whistles a tune

Ave…

the chill seeks a home

under your skin

you shiver and

the trees shiver with you

in the house you left behind

old prayers settle beneath floorboards

whispered blessings groan 

from gnarled sepia wood

listen, palms pressed

against closed doors

he’s inside, listening

in the church you left behind

are the seven holy sacraments

he binds your palms with beaded

rosaries, dripping crimson and silver

blessed art thou amongst us

blessed art the trees,

whistling

Ave maria

Gratia plena