i sit in pew that years before
a convict sat chained to six others
brought to pray for a repentant heart
for the theft of bread or linen handkerchief
or perhaps something more sinister

my ample backside finds no comfort
on the narrow six inch board
but then i doubt that there were
many rotund convicts

the gloom in the old  churchis peaceful
and it is cool even though the temperature
soars outside the thck walls of sandstone
insulate not only from the heat,
also the sound of cars and other modernities

i expect the convicts, appreciated the church,
perhaps not for it's moralities and judgments
but as a respite from the harsh australian sun
a place to sit in quiet contemplation, whilst
the hymns from a homeland,  so far away
washed over them,  like water to a parched soul

as i sit  i feel for those convicts
and the quiet gloom comforts this soul...
i hum amazing grace and feel the connection...