With Me
April 1999
This isn’t like St. Peter’s Church back home
in Winchcombe; I had thought our church quite grand,
but here, in the Basilica in Rome,
my legs are shaking slightly as I stand
inside the entrance. There had been a screen
of scaffolding outside, withholding all
these arches, all this gold-and-silver scene,
these figures from my thoughts. I am so small
and insignificant within this world
of massive saints displayed so high above.
One shows a hefty hand, three fingers curled,
the index pointing outwards to the dove
upon the window, awe-inspiring art,
yet with me, in this space, inside my heart.
Felicity Teague lives in Pittville, a suburb of Cheltenham, UK. She has had inflammatory arthritis since she was 12 yet is able to work from home as a copywriter and copyeditor, with her foremost interests including health and social care. Her poetry features regularly in the Spotlight of The HyperTexts and elsewhere. Her second poetry collection is due out this or next year; other interests include art, film, and photography.
Amethyst Review 