A Poem On Doubt, Faith, And The Heart (Recorded In Paris)

Good morning.

It's just after sunrise in Paris and I'm at Sacré-Cœur,

Basilica Sacré-Cœur,

One of the most beautiful places.

And maybe 25 years ago,

Maybe around the year 2000 or so,

I wrote a poem that appeared in my book,

The Prize,

Called Vespers at Sacré-Cœur.

I was sitting.

.

.

In the seats just listening to everything and these nuns started singing and the sound kind of went up I ended up just kind of getting my journal out and writing this poem down and there was not one word of an edit and it went straight you know straight out into the world which is quite incredible so I'd love to share that with you this morning Vespers at Sacrecarre.

Nuns singing against the patterning dulcimer under the blue dome.

The blue dome,

Sending their song in swirls around the church.

I light a candle,

Naming the past in a head whisper.

All gods lead to God.

All gods lead away from God.

I have no redeemer.

The prayer from my heart is the centre of this flame.

The singing of the dome.

Not of the words but the flame and the sound not in the burning but in the light and the darkness around it.

Not in the song,

But the wave that comes just after.

The hope in each believer.

Not in the God,

But in the believing.

Not in the words,

But in the faith.

No redeemer not one is born in sin but it is in the sinning that we lose ourselves and learn to lie.

Learning to sit still,

The wave that follows the sound,

The image that comes after the candle,

The footfall that comes from not moving.

I found you there,

Outside of the names.

I came to pray,

And I prayed,

Made offerings,

Sat in the hard chairs.

Nothing beats the heart,

But the heart's own beating.

It is in the not listening that we have become liars.

In the loss of the nameless that we have named.

In the need to be redeemed we are lost.

In the need for security we become housebound.

No gods lead to God.

No saviour brings us back.

It is the hearts beating in the darkness.

In the aftershock.

In the letting slip.

In the naming of names.

In the straying from the path In the losing of hope The heart still beats Thank you.

Thank you so much.

We've come such a long way since this poem.

I hope you have a really beautiful day.

Thank you for being here with me