Recess. A poem by Norma MacMaster

and sometimes I’ve met You in churches while kneeling in old brown pews made smooth by ancient petitioning hands;

or by Cavan lakes on close afternoons, where the silly fish rose, making shivery circles and the swans drifted idly by.

But now, I’m reined in by a microbe and it’s You who comes to meet me.
And I meet You between the lines of a poem or in the interceses of prayer—;
in those liminal spaces – not here and not there.