Who sweeps a room…- a poem by Susan Brice

Who sweeps a room…
(George Herbert, The Elixir 1633)

Rub bees wax 
onto the faces and 
wings of angels.
(They would fly from
the reredos were they 
not fixed in time, in space)

Sweep the stone floor.

‘Who sweeps a room’? 
	I do:
‘Who swept?’
	She did.

My mother cleaned 
the village church, 
took me with her.

I liked the smells, 
the dark shapes, 
the eye of the brass eagle,
I liked the pulpit.

I climbed its wooden steps 
stretched up, peeped
at empty pews. 

Outside birds sang, 
trees shushed,
cows lowed.

Inside the metal mop-bucket 
scraped the stone floor,
broom shushed,  
hoover hummed. 

She swept the room as for His laws. 
She made that and the action fine. 
	
Light is mottled, 
scents remain. 

Who sweeps?
	I do
My mother is gone
	I am here

Who will sweep?
I do not know
I shall be gone. 

Susan Brice lives in Derbyshire. She has worked collaboratively with Viv Longley and Jane Keenan to publish two anthologies – Daughters of Thyme (available from dotipress.com) & Homethyme (available from Amazon). They are currently working on a third anthology, Makingthyme. Susan’s collection Brushstrokes of the Ultimate Artist (October 2024) is available from Amazon.

Recently she volunteered to go on the church cleaning rota. Her first session with the mop reminded her of George Herbert’s poem ‘The Elixir’. Cleaning the church gathered the past, present and future into one place.