In the crypt of St. Peter,
a statue.
Forever young:
forever serene,
as she studies
the open book lying across her hands,
communing with infinity.
In the golden surrounds
candle flames reflect
many times
the muted glow
revealing the purity of her face and form
despite the Nun’s concealing habit.
I raise my eager camera.
One slender statue finger lifts,
waves fore and back,
admonishing gently.
I bow acceptance.
She returns to immobility.
I put away my lens,
it is unnecessary.
The picture is engraved on my heart
– David Glyn-Jones
