That I don’t understand a word
adds to the soaring sound.
I have no need of the richness
of gilded wood and sacred icons.
The male voices exalt
in Russian Orthodox chants and hymns.
Tenors coil crystal chimes,
baritones thread intricate melody,
and the basso profondos
hold the whole firmament aloft.
Their earth-deep, cave-dark rumbles
lodge in shuddering bone,
quivering heart, and deliver me
past the elements.
About the Author: Patricia Wellingham-Jones
Patricia Wellingham-Jones is a widely published former psychology researcher and writer/editor. She has a special interest in healing writing, with poems recently in The Widow’s Handbook (Kent State University Press). Chapbooks include Don’t Turn Away: poems about breast cancer, End-Cycle: poems about caregiving, Apple Blossoms at Eye Level, Voices on the Land and Hormone Stew.