Friday, June 4, 2010

The Moor

It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot,
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
What God was there made himself felt,
Not listened to, in clean colours
That brought a moistening of the eye,
In movement of the wind over grass.

There were no prayers said. But stillness
Of the heart's passions -- that was praise
Enough; and the mind's cession
Of its kingdom. I walked on,
Simple and poor, while the air crumbled
And broke on me generously as bread.

R. S. Thomas
art by: roger jardine


Anonymous said...

Thanks for posting this. Thomas is my favorite poet and I am always looking for poems I don't have.

Roger Jardine said...

Thank you for using one of my paintings as part of your work. Perhaps you could mention my website so that others may view it and feel moved to do the same.
Kind regards
Roger Jardine

smilingheart said...

Thanks Roger,

Enjoyed your art very much. I added the link to your site.