They've broken down the walls a little
Enough for me to peep in and put a foot in the gap
Whereas before I looked and sighed
Now I can be part of that which I lost
Did cutting myself off accelerate the process?
Of a certainty
Will going back again allow it to heal?
Once broken, never repaired...
I think of that church at St Fagans
Once in fields, empty, tumbledown, sheep and rats its only congregation
Taken to pieces and moved
Now reassembled and ready to be restored
For the paintings covered for years to be revealed and shine out
Is that now where I am?
Broken, in pieces, but now ready for something new?
Time alone will tell.
Put down the thinking and ruminating and worrying
To live is the only restoration needed
And if the artist is there, he will act
If he is not, by living, the picture will have revealed itself.
Sleep sweetly and be blessed...