In aid of the restoration of the reredos – a poem by Jane Angué

In aid of the restoration of the reredos

An austere island this church
its romanesque escarpment
set solid among
stone scattered homes it is

the hub summer holds the door
and inside whitewashed walls mask
centuries carrying the vault frame
the cracked and blackened reredos

hushed greetings settling on benches
a small frail lady quilted in cardigans
is ushered forward to her spot
a cushion placed on worn-shined wood

she turns shyly remembers the war
the children in our house back then
says that now she is a stranger here
and smiles

standing facing us silver-maned
pale faces poised on white shirts and dresses
closeness bracing tired bodies
one needs to sit

a few words to begin the conductor
gently serries their rank gives the note
voices some quavering
some struggling to rise

all ring their gift sing the mass
the requiem the partisan’s poem in Occitan
pause and listen with us
enchanted to the pavane

Jane Angué lives in the foothills of the Cévennes and teaches English Language and Literature. She contributes in French and English to print and online journals such as Amethyst Review, Erbacce, morphrog, The High Window, Traversées and Arpa. A pamphlet, des fleurs pour Bach, was published in 2019 (Editions Encres Vives). A collection of poems, Fruit, leaf and flesh, was published in 2023 by Erbacce Press.

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