written August 9, 2011

Daily, I beat the dawn.  Demanding full control over my body, I jumped, ran & cantered on…  In those quiet markers of ordinary collegiate mornings, I often found myself running the perimeter of the cemetery resting directly across the street from my Alma mater.

Zealous youthful days purged themselves into quieter, sometimes darker occasions.  As a college student grappling with a deep, personal loss along with an intrigue into the world without, the world within, and the world beyond, I forged for places to tarry alone.  Please don’t misunderstand me.  I fully immersed myself into study groups, student government, and hilarious friends.

Yet, I had to snitch away from the curious, clever crowds.

Wondering.  Wandering.

Is there a hardiness, an eloquence within this bantering, busy      carcass of mine?

Church In The Field

The sky was one vast ceiling that vaulted out and on

Down to starry stain glassed windows of sunsets and of dawns

An out of doors cathedral day by day revealed

I remember church in the field

I remember church in the field

The rain fell like a sacrament on the alter of the soil

And mixed with sweat that fell from hands content with honest toil

The faith of spring saw harvest that seeds and earth would yield

I remember church in the field

I remember church in the field

There were blazing colors

There were lovely smells

I encountered passions my poetry can’t tell

Mere religion hadn’t tamed me yet, my reverence was all real

I remember church in the field

I prayed there without thinking

I worshiped from no cue

The flashing summer thunderstorm

And wild roses fresh with dew

And to mysteries and music always just concealed

I remember church in the field

I remember church in the field

There were blazing colors

There were lovely smells

I encountered passions my poetry can’t tell

Mere religion hadn’t tamed me yet, my reverence was all real

I remember church in the field

Written by Phill McHugh