SHE STANDS…By Lorene Carey (2026)
She stands unperturbed atop a forested hill,
Enveloped by tallow-woods and gums, tall and still.
Walls of mud, rammed high with earth
Beams of strength with a gnarly girth.
Feet of thousands have walked, have paced
The pathways of bricks, so painstakingly laid.
Not smooth, not flat, you would even say rustic
With each step taken, time whispers its tricks.
The walls have ears, what stories they tell
Of laughter, of sadness or perhaps even scandal!
Who roams the hallways, each room, each nook?
A delightful picture, a sculpture, a sacred book.
The gardens once tendered with sweat, with toil
Now rambling bushes and vines enrich the soil.
Still there’s beauty we see in foliage of green
So bright, so lush as it always has been.
Our Sisters, whose vision, from faith, from love
Built with nature, in nature watched by stars above.
And as we sit, with stillness of mind
The faces change, the seasons, the time.
For calmness, for peace, for freedom we strive
We sit, we chant, true nature alive.
And so she stands, quite humble not proud
This special Old Monastery in beautiful Stroud.