This was written for my Creative Writing class senior year. I think we were supposed to do a magnetic poetry type thing (i.e. make sense out of pieced-together words) using words we chose ourselves.
To enter a cathedral alone
—to break the vast, sleepy
silence that presses down
from the sanctimonious ceiling
—to hear the holy drone of
candles flickering in
forgotten corners
—to watch the medieval moon
rise from blue to red
stained by the window's color—
That is peace.
That is to forgive the past.
(1998)