Watch Maundy Thursday, ten o’clock the lamps along the church path supplemented by a full moon shining through trellised branches of an unleafed sycamore. Red warning lights on cranes, massed about sites across the river glowing in velvet darkness add to an air of quiet waiting. Back in the space where altars have been stripped, a few will keep the seasonal vigil for a further silent hour. Out here it is as if there were a holding-in of breath – everything feels gathered somehow attentive, for one lingering moment, then a late bus, lighted, empty, busies around the corner and the city’s pulse resumes.
Tony Lucas is retired from parish ministry but continues work of editing and spiritual direction. His poetry has appeared widely, on both sides of the Atlantic, and past collections Rufus At Ocean Beach (Stride/Carmelyon) and Unsettled Accounts (Stairwell Books) remain available.