Ensemble of Shards

{4} Break the silence

To @zaracem, because when I visit her and her stories I feel a sort of silence that ushers peace and get a sense of understanding.

Ooh, yes, this is just a scene, and I haven't written the rest. I hope this soon will not be actually true for the churches.

powered by: the first room I entered in Synapsis, a computer game, and The Irresistible Revolution, written by Shane Claiborne

(madre: (noun) a nun

pare: (noun) a leader in the Catholic Church, wellllll, I got it from the Filipino Catholic Church and I don't really know what the position is exactly and I don't want to ask my grandma)

 ~

In the church there is silence. The choir may be singing, penetrating the marble floors and its mahogany pews, but in all the people it is silence. Not one is stirring; everyone is frozen within some icy stronghold none of them know of. It is numbness, the words of the choir do not pierce them as the words have been intended, even the choir harmonise without drilling meaning.

They have fallen asleep in the light, but the light they harbour is only in themselves, and they have not let it burn inside them as it should have. The light should have been a fire to purify, to bring the comfort to the disturbed. But the people dwell in the comfort, and have been preventing themselves from being disturbed.

The Mass is being given, well-rehearsed words from the pare echo from the halls. The people sit still and listen. So still. And the children squirm because they do not understand. The madre in the back by the children sternly shush them. The children are ashamed, and hate the madre for telling them off. They want to get away from their seats, because they find this dulling. Deep inside, they desire to see the meaning from the halls of the church.

The eldest looks into the eyes of his peers. They catch his gaze upon them, and all look into his brown eyes to find the answer. Let us gather, his eyes seem to say, and when all are called upon to close their eyes let us silence our footfalls and wander the halls of marble. The children responded to him. Yes, Francisco, lead us away. The smallest one, with dark blue eyes, flourished his hand, as if to say, The madre, I will divert her from us when you flee. Then the pare on the pulpit cleared his throat. All began to close their eyes. The madre quieted.

Alfonso, come with us, the second-eldest girl motioned to the smallest boy as they alighted from the pews. The boy followed. And the madre did not stir. The prayer had long lost its meaning to her, but bound by the ruling she chanted it in synchrony.