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MONT ST. MICHEL

I walk the paths of stone
Glimmering in the early Easter light.
Surrounded by small waves,
The high walls echo praise.
I absorb the chilling wind
And brace myself against its eager might.

Long ago, they prayed for might,
Guarded behind majestic stone,
Fearful of continuing wind.
In subtle candlelight,
Brothers chanted repetitious praise,
Eyes always to the water's waves.

Enemy ships came in waves,
Thinking they might
Stop the alleluia praise.
Cut off, confused by stone,
They sat bobbing, caught in the light
Rain and dampening wind.

I ascend to the stairs that wind
Over and over again like waves.
The stone walls glow with the light.
If they could talk, they might
Tell of the sand, murderous as stone.
Yet they whisper only praise.

Still the soldiers heard their praise
Through the lightening wind,
As the water shrank away from stone
And land peaked through smaller waves.
The sand devoured the ships' might,
Insuring peace in the early light.

Thank the Lord for the world's Light,
I say in Easter praise.
And pray for those who might
Still battle in the wind.
My day is ending as the waves
Are welcomed again by stone.

Leaving now with the light wind,
I hear my praise echo across waves.
Then it, too, is lost against the mighty stone.

Karen M. Rex' 87

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