(A little story really but I've chopped it into little lines to make it a poem)

 

Two of my favourite responsibilities

are opening up the Abbey

in the morning and closing it at night.

On sunny mornings

the sunlight filters through the stained glass windows

making mosaics of coloured lights

on the stone floor and walls. 

I delay putting on the lighting

as long as possible to enjoy this.

When we shut at 4pm

I get an enormous sense of purpose

in closing the heavy West doors

and imagining the thousands

who have done this before me. 

I literally feel the weight of history.

At both ends of the day

I am able to indulge myself

in the silent peace of the Abbey. 

Someone once told me

that the stones were soaked

with the prayers of a thousand years;

I wouldn’t know about that

but in that quiet solitude

I do hear the stone breathing.