ah St Mary's! arching to-the heavens
built from the meagre pennies of migrants
where mitre rules amidst candles, incense
and the ushered solemnly devour the divine
while on park benches outside, in the sub-ways
Jesus sleeps, uncovered, unloved
crow-fly to Redfem, a mixed bag
walking bare boards, well trod, respectfully
joining the aboriginal Christ at the banquet table
sometimes jostling with kids
a community overspilling, cheerfully
at even the most sacred times
St Vincent's, St Mary's, parallel
following the same ancient ritual
eat, drink, do this in memory
separated by a chasm of belief, practice
two miles apart by crow-fly
light years in thinking, acting
what impact O fiery flame of Pentecost?
where does the heart of Christ beat?
among soft hues filtering through rose windows?
or in the scarred lives of koori dispossessed?
ancient Word made flesh
do what in memory of me?
by Jim Considine