Illuminating York Poetry: Age of Enlightenment

Posted on 17 January 2013 | Poem

They have bathed God’s eyes

in deionised water -

brought him down from his great height;

a kindly-looking man -

he, in his glass,

and us, allowing ourselves

to be reflected in him.

In this space-age Orb

we do not seem to fear him,

but think only of the medieval skill,

the wonder of its age -

our hopeless groping towards those

who wrought this wonder.

Did they really believe?

Strange, these images

created for the eyes of God only,

hidden in the high east window.

An ‘ion’ (according to the dictionary)

is, at root, ‘a moving thing’.

Is this faith of ours

‘deionised’ too, I wonder?

Or do these little pictures still move?
- Andrew Brown