Breath held like a cap in the hand

[Gabrielle Dean]

The Moor- R. S. Thomas

 

It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot,
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
What God there was made himself felt -
Not listened to - in clean colours
That brought a moistening of the eye,
In a movement of the wind over grass.
There were no prayers said. But stillness
Of the heart’s passions — that was praise
Enough; and the mind’s cession
Of its kingdom. I walked on,
Simple and poor, while the air crumbled
And broke on me generously as bread.

Another R S Thomas poem that just makes me speechless with gratitude and wonder. He just builds and builds and the last lines are the most beautiful fulfilment.

[Gabrielle Dean]

You can feel the way the moor must have felt for him at the time can’t you. An amazing poet.

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