Gargoyles warn of an impending doom

as you take a breath and leap forwards

into an unknown marble darkness.

Faces glazed in an eternal solitude,

crying out for their patronage from forgotten corners.

Hushed voices and pointing fingers,

searching, looking, finding,

the Green Man.

Under the Madonna

he loiters and remains.

The constant reminder of a nation divided.

Vandalised memorials beg for attention,

subtle murmurs of a lost dignitary and an

unyielding faith.

Hands locked together in prayer or

on the skull of an anonymous acquintance,

Placing their fate in the careless whispers

of a bored congregation.

They will always remain where we fleetingly dwell.

© 2010 Charlotte Chase