The Crumbling Turnstile

[beaufort]

Sitting on coastal fields, atop chalk-lined cliffs, [b I would leave out the comma[/b]
a stone church remains, the crumbling turnstile of lives lived and past.
Entered together on a bright sunny day, devoid of teenage cares, are those entering teenagers?
light beaming the only colors inside,
pouring, unobstructed through stained glass windows of yesteryear Saints.

All else is monochrome, like a sepia drawing,
chalk-colored walls replaced stations and images. would "replacing" be better?
No sanctuary lamp, statues, even Christ was missing,
replaced by a cross, removed as if buried for all time,
leaving just His symbol, the suffering detached. seems to me the cross is a symbol of suffering, with or without Christ on it, but I am not a theological scholar

Silence resounded, amplified by whiteness now decisive as a Welsh chapel on Sunday,
but without the sound of voices raised in praise.
The old organ pipes silently past events, happiness, marriages, baptisms in worship …
Eucharist removed, apparently forever, I know what you mean, but "organ pipes silently past events" seems awkward to me
adds to an ambiance full of emptiness and loneliness; yet electric with hope.

Unfilled now with patrons declining in years,
visiting for Christmas and Easter, through a broken but open door,
hands shaking in fellowship,
while heads shake invisibly, silently … searching for meaning.
Meanwhile the Holy Spirit remains … Waiting patiently. I think this stanza needs work - the meaning is clear, but it seems a bit too obvious in a way - maybe it is
the "C & E Christians" that I am reacting to.

I always enjoy your poems. Thanks for this one - just my opinions. Best.

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Sitting on coastal fields, atop chalk-lined cliffs, [b I would leave out the comma[/b]
a stone church remains, the crumbling turnstile of lives lived and past.
Entered together on a bright sunny day, devoid of teenage cares, are those entering teenagers?
light beaming the only colors inside,
pouring, unobstructed through stained glass windows of yesteryear Saints.

All else is monochrome, like a sepia drawing,
chalk-colored walls replaced stations and images. would "replacing" be better?
No sanctuary lamp, statues, even Christ was missing,
replaced by a cross, removed as if buried for all time,
leaving just His symbol, the suffering detached. seems to me the cross is a symbol of suffering, with or without Christ on it, but I am not a theological scholar

Silence resounded, amplified by whiteness now decisive as a Welsh chapel on Sunday,
but without the sound of voices raised in praise.
The old organ pipes silently past events, happiness, marriages, baptisms in worship …
Eucharist removed, apparently forever, I know what you mean, but "organ pipes silently past events" seems awkward to me
adds to an ambiance full of emptiness and loneliness; yet electric with hope.

Unfilled now with patrons declining in years,
visiting for Christmas and Easter, through a broken but open door,
hands shaking in fellowship,
while heads shake invisibly, silently … searching for meaning.
Meanwhile the Holy Spirit remains … Waiting patiently. I think this stanza needs work - the meaning is clear, but it seems a bit too obvious in a way - maybe it is
the "C & E Christians" that I am reacting to.

I always enjoy your poems. Thanks for this one - just my opinions. Best.