Charles Mackintosh - Sanctuary

Flung down on blood rust tiles by some strange force within
The mummer writhes before the lighted candles
At the timbered feet

The heavy blocks of air above press down
While sense-affecting opiate lades the grey-stoned naves and aisles
And holds up dim-lit fugues
Above the muttering figures in the pews

He does not dare to light a tallowed flame
And fears to touch those very feet
Should some slight tremor jar the nail
That holds that pain in place

Nor can he grieve aloud, poor fool
Or shoulder off the burdened air that crushes down
But does not dull his troubled sense

No pity but his own to soothe the pain
No light to show a painless way
But some deep knowledge of a path…

And twisting up to seek that noble brow
Sees clearly now that very light
That shines on through the pain.

Charles Mackintosh

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sanctuary-53/