The old prayer book

On the shelf I found a prize I won

I came out first in an old school exam

They rewarded me with this book I revered

Catholic prayers, a manual of fear.

Its pages edged in gold, it’s very swish.

Maybe I should stand this in a dish.

I would put it on the table when I ate

And read a prayer to keep me out of date

I look inside and see the latin verse.

It moves my heart remembering, rehearsed.

I liked the latin ritual and the hymns

But not the constant emphasis on sin

I thought it was my fault that daddy died.

The weight of all the world was multiplied

I think I’ll put the prayer book in a drawer

I don’t want to see it anymore

Latin is no longer used in church

Once  it was the way we kept in touch.

Now everything’s in turmoil nothing lasts.

I wish the past would stay right in the past.