Through the windows of the ruined cathedral
I look towards the rooftops of Victorian houses,
And picture you as a boy, throwing sticks into the canal,
As the sun refracts on the water.
Freezing time for a few seconds.
Then some years later you, as a newlywed,
Are pacing the linoleum floor of your mother’s attic room.
Whilst my mother tries on a new dress,
Bought with ration vouchers.

Through the smoke, a shopping centre emerges.
The summer breeze cuts through the trees
Towards the church spire in the distance,
And on past temples and mosques.
Finally resting on unchanging change.

As I walk into the new cathedral
I pass by hosts of dancing saints and angels
And clouds reflected in a vast window,
Into the gothic fright of pervading quiet,
A convex curtain of yellow, framed in concrete.
Underground caves of fire and brimstone
Have been replaced by L shaped corridors
With no doors and windows,
Or exit.

You have taken so much with you
And I must follow you one day,
Sooner or later.