On Retiring as Associate Priest in an Anglican parish

On Retiring as Associate Priest in an Anglican Parish
Time now to fold and put away
(well within reach on a central shelf)
words I’ve been privileged to say,
robes that both stirred and covered self.

Tears fall in soft autumnal grief;
letting them flow releases me.
Tightness unwinds and brings relief;
eyes look around and start to see.

There on those shelves are garments tossed,
jumbled aside in a pressured hour,
colours once loved and crafts I’ve lost:
some I discard while some might flower.

Clasped in that role, I shrank and grew;
cramped and controlled, but yet revealed.
I moved beyond the me I knew,
though there are parts of me unhealed.

Now though I keenly feel the loss,
something with wings is freed outside.
Stone rolled aside, but still the cross
questions humanity denied.

Christ is still striding on ahead;
I face a road half-known and strange.
Other hands raise the wine and bread;
time to receive, let spirit range.
	Barbara Messner 9/03/2022