I touched that pew looking for something. Perhaps I sought
An infusion of life that wood can give having once lived
But stone and metal and glass cannot.
The ruddy pew stood worn and smoothed by centuries of use,
Darkened under oil of countless hands. This modest
Furniture, near the back but not the last, called to itself
No attention, made no claim to glory, caught few eyes
Besides brief glances of those grasping to take use
Of its humble function. As silent slaves unnoticed wait
To offer comforts without demand of thanks
Or gratuity from masters’ hands, this pew
Stands that we may sit and weekly give our weight to it.
How unlike the front, the alter, the gold, and rainbow glass
Meant to represent our God of cross and resurrection. Can it be
More clear in any bright or dimly lit place that these
Pews better portray Our Savior’s heart
Than priestly robes and passing plates?
O lucky pew, so naturally free from this burden of self, praise
With me the One who forgives ungrateful hearts
Like this small trifle I possess. Yes, I am jealous, covetous
Of a position far above my own, and far below,
For I long to be you.
Written 3-28-08
Cesky Budejovice, Czech Republic