Old houses go on keeping their vigil

Saturday, 28 May, 2016

The American poet Robert Cording writes about faith, grief and grace. Explaining his approach in an interview with Holy Cross Magazine, he said, “It’s self-reflective about your relationship to mortality, to the world, to those fundamental questions: Who are we? Where are we going? Why are we here? That’s what started me writing — those kinds of questions.”

Old Houses

Year after year after year
I have come to love slowly

how old houses hold themselves —

before November’s drizzled rain
or the refreshing light of June —

as if they have all come to agree
that, in time, the days are no longer
a matter of suffering or rejoicing.

I have come to love
how they take on the color of rain or sun
as they go on keeping their vigil

without need of a sign, awaiting nothing

more than the birds that sing from the eaves,
the seizing cold that sounds the rafters.

Robert Cording

Where once we visited

Filed in: Poetry • Tags: , ,

Comments are closed.