This is kind of an interesting poem I wrote tonight when I should have been studying for a math test. I was walking my dog on Main Street, across the street from a small church at about 7:15 PM. I see a kindly, elderly gentleman parking his car, and then crossing the street to the church. He walks very slowly. As I see him go to this small mass, driving and walking despite his old age and feebleness, I began to think. What inspires this man to attend mass? Part of me felt inspired by his devotion. A more cynical side of me thought of tradition and rote. Nonetheless, I was further struck by the fact that he had left his car lights on, and I contrasted that with the lights on inside and outside of the church. I'm not sure of the quality of this poem, but I think the topic, at least, is interesting. This poem is not at all anti-religious, by the way. It's simply contemplative and questioning. I sort of go on to contrast this man's faith with what I see week after week in that same church. But I'm giving too much away.
A lonely citadel of the Lord
Sits on a busy street.
Now adorned with modern lights
Against the weekday darkness.
When it was once lit
By faith alone.
Kindly old sir, you left your car lights on.
But he's gone to that house once lit by faith alone.
What's there for him?
He keeps going back.
His car lights offer protection against darkness,
Yet still he is drawn to that house once lit by faith alone.
But now the car is lit,
And the house is lit,
By the same fire.
But still he goes
To that house once lit by faith alone.
