Catholic during the Great Apostasy

Blue uneasy sea is stretching in front of me
against the background of mild hills merging with clouds
austere northern Scottish hills
covered by purple moorlands
they remember the old days
the times of brave highlanders
the times of honour and steel
here sharp wind hits your face
the rain hardens your cold body
sometimes there is no wind or rain
and you wonder what’s happened
in forests and wild backwoods
you find empty churches
the ruins of temples overgrown with weeds
prayer has forgotten this land
which used to be so proud and faithfulhere at the end of the world
altars were turned into hostels
they used to stick out their hands for the Body of Christ
now there’s nothing left of their faith
there are no highlanders anymore
and crosses they have taken with them to heaven

sitting in a silent church
I can see what is left
a handful of people praying to You
someone with his hands in his pockets
is walking in front of Your image
there is hubbub and a fair and yet nobody is hurt by it
I would like to say that God is not here
but You are everywhere
even here where they have already sold Your temple

Arkadiusz Niewolski