Old Words

The bus crawled past the church on the corner,

and the words outside it cut through the

stonework grey,

carved their insistence into the weary, dog-end of the day.

The light shines on in the darkness and the darkness has never mastered it.

I turned away.

Not the church for me.

That miserable branch of the

happily clapping ranch.

I would rather be free.

The bus rolled on.

The church rolled out of sight.

But I knew the words.

I took them home.

Turned off the light.

The words shine on in the darkness.