Posted 1 May 2012
after a visit to Fountains Abbey Grass an immense ruined shell and ancient fear. In the nave a startled rabbit flees into a blind alley crouches with its face to the wall. Over centuries it touches me: the patient work of stone on stone the lifting of archway and span pillar and corbel higher and higher to the glory of God and the hubris of Man. I can still see the vanished wings the grave saints who graced niche and pediment their mute spaces sighing into the wind, the bitter wind that blows through history bearing threads of plainsong and the cries of the beaten and banished shrunk now to a pigeon's croon and the thud of a terrified rabbit's foot. ©Jane Abrahams May 2011
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