Now that the Organist is Gone | cessation
Everyone — he’s back! We stand to attention.
Now that the organist is gone —
we steal a moment of rest in the chancel,
appoint a ‘lookout’ to watch for his return.
I sketch in the sheet music
and I remember leaning in
between the wooden panels that seperate the basses from the rest
to eavesdrop for dribbles of gossip.
Everyone — he’s back!
We stand to attention.
Sounds of pencils dropping from loose folders
chiming with the squeals from leather shoes
and the rustle of our surplices.
Page 17 — ‘Kyrie Eleison’
Kyrie Eleison — Kyrie Eleison — Kyrie Eleison
Now the conducting ceases
and for once — we do not chatter
and our snowy white gowns are replaced with black.
We stand to attention, though you didn’t ask.
Then Father Kempster takes the stand
— let light perpetual shine upon him.
So I will clench the cuffs of my cassock
and remember your orders to us before every funeral: we cannot cry
because our voices carry lamentation
because our composure carries rest.
Tonight there will be many candles.
Tonight — an empty closet in the keep.
Tonight — a grieving choir
— now that our organist is gone.
In memory of Mr Redd.
