Buried in the back of a busy tourist-laden lane,
nestled in a cove just off the marshy grass,
sits a small and simple chapel.
Ivy tendrils cover every inch of available space,
color so vivid it could have been painted
using a bowl full of smashed sugar peas.
Water laps at both shoulders,
A pungent bite of salt at the left and
crisp fresh water to the right.
A taste of both worlds.
Gentle breezes fuel the air,
A constant battle of warmth and cool
Like a single strand of hair that won’t relent.
An abandoned boat floats in the distance,
quietly waiting for the return of its owner.
A pelican soaks in a nearby fountain
floating to and fro.
A man sauntered off the cobblestone path and,
slowly made his way through the arched doorway.
He removed his cap and attempted to carve out a
comfortable patch on the rock hard bench.
He laid down his heavy load,
more like cut it loose; set it free
I heard it hit the floor.
He blew a sigh of relief that sounded
like the whistle of a train; long and loud.
He found something there in that quiet place,
worth more to him than buckets full of legal tender.
He glimpsed a beam of golden light that
pushed its way through a small crack,
and was captivated and enlightened.
He found his Holy Grail,
A place to lay his burdens
to sit peacefully and untangle the deep webs within his soul.
It felt as freeing as unbuttoning his pants after an enormous,
sumptuous banquet—a sweet release.
this too shall pass.
Debbie Hope (Full of Hope)