After Robert Penn Warren

Long ago, in England, I, a young atheist, stood
In the nave of York Minster at sunset, and saw
The Apostles, in grisaille glass, gaze at me.

I could not hear them above echoes
In the massive cavern of magnesian limestone.
They juddered within me.

I did not know what was happening
In my deepest being.

I departed the cathedral alone.
It was a time before I believed.
…
Tell me a story.

In this moment, this time of trepidation,
Of scarcity for plenty and plenty for few,
Tell me a story of the End.

Make it a story of compassion and grace—
unbounded Love.

Tell me the story of restoration for all.