The Choir
A choir boy sings a soft songAnd the halls echo with pure flames
A man is softly weepingMary looks down on himAnd sees sorrow
The choir sings of hope
A woman sits farther backHolding a package in her handThe remains of her son
A priest has lit the incenseSmells of mercy line the air
His shaking shouldersCannot release his tensionHis furrowed brow straining
A single note, sustained
The woman’s eyes seem barely openEven as she looks to MaryThey both hold their sons
The priest opens his BibleBeginning to read
The cold stone floorRubs against his kneesHis heart seems to pound out-loud
Mary’s golden crown glows
The woman cries, “Why?”The man fell on the groundAnd the startled priest dropped his book.
Caroline Jennings ’09