Ladies in hats

 Ladies in hats

Ladies in hats, clutching their handbags

Make their way slowly right up to the altar

In Clarendon Street Church, inner Dublin

A weekend midday in deep middle March. 

The North wind is blowing 

It’s freezing the buskers 

Outside Brown Thomas Store

Who cup their hands in the cold. 

Meanwhile inside the candles are lighting

Coins dropping fast, prayers slowly rising

In front of saints in side chapels

Old ladies whisper their sibilant prayers. 

An oasis of calm in the heart of the city

When the doors close the noises 

Are banished and silence

Rises right up to the ceiling. 

Things have changed much

Since as children they made

Their Communion in white dresses

Eight decades ago. 

But still they come back, armed with umbrellas

To remember the souls who have long made their way

To eternal reward, their friends and their families

Leading the path to heaven above. 

Tourists slip in armed with their cameras

Hoping to catch a glimpse of the windows

Colored stained glass giving soft light

To the old statues of saints. 

Prayers rising up on a freezing cold day 

Warm are the prayers of the faithful 

Leaning forward on old seats

Hands clasped in devotion. 

Back out in the street the coffee inviting

From Bewleys cafe, once Quaker owned,

Still boasting Harry Clarke stained glass

Looking down on the tourists eating their scones. 

Dublin has changed, but still retains 

A Victorian charm that captures the crowds

While high above roofs an icy wind’s blowing

Beneath a blue sky with Easter approaching