HOLY DAYS OF OBLIGATION
We processed down Dorking Road in pairs,
about thirty of us, wearing our Sunday faces
and walking our best grown up walk.
The boys had slicked down hair
and 'stay up' grey socks,
while we wore fold creased lace veils
and almost white frocks.
We passed by the high Convent wall
(out of respect no one talked)
then brisklly through Roseberry Park
scuffing up dust as we walked.
St'Josephs stood silently waiting,
it's gloomy doors wide open -
like a mouth.
Solemnly we made our wobbly genuflections
and seated ourselves in our pews,
obedently making our responses,
singing or kneeling as required,
swinging and kicking our heels as we tired.
Restless spirits caught up in an abstract ceremony
awaiting the chance of escape.