We Are All Made of Stars
Through the Galilee Chapel,
stone and glass, to the smallness
of being in this place,
in the last bay of the nave
before the crossing
I light a candle - a tea-light for 50p.
As the flame takes, imagine her freed
flying on supernova wings
to begin again in another body
half-formed of atoms from beyond
the Milky Way
in her own funny galaxy...
At work, I say - I lit a candle,
it was all I could think to do.
You say - it gets to you when there’s
trouble and non-believers like me
light candles in cathedrals.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Avril Joy would be
pleased to hear them.