CYNTHIA
NADELMAN
The Cathedral as Process
The way that prismed
dragonfly
in the clearing
among highbush blueberries
and granite boulders
in full view of the Atlantic
and its lighthouse
kept circling, methodically,
and swooping to catch smaller insect prey
had me spinning in a spot,
just as now, in a composition
imagining a lark loose in the church,
the spin is as taut a construction
as the one we attend.
Here, where a meditation
takes place, is something incomplete,
a mixing of stones and genres,
sculptures not finished that
must never look new
(pastiche a complained-of possibility).
The dragonfly, if it built a web,
would likewise keep turning, again and again,
unsure of the strength of its bond,
faithful to the task,
never fully nourished.
Of such uncertainties
we build every temple.
