Village Walk ©

the road narrowly stretched 

out in a long line toward the

place of hidden secrets sleeping 

in a church where light clustered

like fireflies in June. the voices 

singing in the sanctuary came 

clearly and sweetly to me so 

I closed my eyes and allowed

the sounds to lengthen into the

night.  upon that mystery in the

little village church I rested my

heart troubled by trodden paths

taken in a civil war world with

too many youths perishing. the

long walk made me wonder what 

was won,  who is living in exile, 

the meaning of theological truth,

moral predicaments, and untiring

attempts to invent stories out of

the evening stars, children with 

hearts made of laughter and the

dreams beneath the compulsion 

of going to war and convincing 

us the earth is enriched by the

bones of the dead.  

h. j. Recinos