night-time
Coventry
January 91
not out of choice
I hunkered down
locked out of my lodgings
with a door key that wouldn’t work
ticking off seconds
minutes
hours
yearning for a rising sun
frost on breath

I played ghost
not wanting to be mistaken
by the unseen insomniacs of the night
for a prowler out on manoeuvrers
whilst my dog-collared host slept soundly
in his celestial bed.

I could have raised the dead from their slumber
I could have banged on the Vicarage door
but as a lost poet once said
shyness is nice……
cowering on the porch
I assessed my options
resolving to catch the morning’s first bus
buy a bacon bun for breakfast
try and get warm

In the strictest sense
I was not
hopeless and homeless
but accepting an open invitation
to mix and mingle with others
forced to live in a coventry like state
hiding their love in secret
had put me out on the street

drowning in the stimulating hubbub
of others’ conversations
I re-emerged
from my silent observations
well past the time
when all good Vicars
go to bed
but I had lived
and I had learned
in ways unanticipated
by theological educators
from a placement in Coventry.

Copyright – ashyvicar May 2024