The Prairie Church

Miles outside of a crumbling town, all by itself amid unending fields,
Unturned as they are this time of the year, I found a stately Lutheran
Church. A building beside it suggested a school, and pieces
Of playground equipment were near, but I could see no one. There
Weren't any cars in the lot, and I wondered, as I hurtled past, keen
To get back to my home in the suburbs, an hour away from that
Desolate prairie, if anyone still came to visit the church, if kids
From the farms out of sight of the highway attended that school.
How much does it matter? The prairies grow emptier. People drift
Off for the steadier incomes the cities provide, and the stately
Relics that they have abandoned sit silent, outside of dead towns.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2024-02-11 at 10:22

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D G Moody
Damn! I'm reminded here of a Larkin poem about desolate English churches; and you've done the same here for the States.
I loved the melancholy you've captured Lawrence And your best poetry is when you take a direction away from yourself.
2024-02-11


alarian The PoetBay support member heart!
it brought to my mind me a perfect image of desolation
made me thought of a sequence in the film terminator, when a nuclear bomb blasted and all got in flames
2024-02-11