A Parish in the Bronx

A Parish in the Bronx A PARISH IN THE BRONX / Donald Revell The moving filaments of traffic shadow the people and jagged, stationary cars in a church parking lot below the highway. Anyone leaving the late mass has a choice, a lucky one. He can look up as far as the highway and believe in so many lights moving fast. Or he can look up farther to the spire razored in floodlights, and picture himself that high, that visible. taller than the traffic or the near buildings, Some choices are too easy to make only because nothing hangs in the balance. Coming out of the darkness of a church into a dark neighborhood smeared beneath pylons, nobody has anything to lose between the heavens of the fast cars and of the spire razored where everyone can see. I felt so lucky when I stood there. I felt like the last organ note of a hymn huge inside of the nothing that comes afterwards. There is no room between eternity and the loneliness inside of a car and the loneliness of the floodlights cutting a tall scaffold into the night sky. I came out of mass and made a choice lucky to believe http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

A Parish in the Bronx

The Missouri Review, Volume 11 (2) – Oct 5, 1988

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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
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Abstract

A PARISH IN THE BRONX / Donald Revell The moving filaments of traffic shadow the people and jagged, stationary cars in a church parking lot below the highway. Anyone leaving the late mass has a choice, a lucky one. He can look up as far as the highway and believe in so many lights moving fast. Or he can look up farther to the spire razored in floodlights, and picture himself that high, that visible. taller than the traffic or the near buildings, Some choices are too easy to make only because nothing hangs in the balance. Coming out of the darkness of a church into a dark neighborhood smeared beneath pylons, nobody has anything to lose between the heavens of the fast cars and of the spire razored where everyone can see. I felt so lucky when I stood there. I felt like the last organ note of a hymn huge inside of the nothing that comes afterwards. There is no room between eternity and the loneliness inside of a car and the loneliness of the floodlights cutting a tall scaffold into the night sky. I came out of mass and made a choice lucky to believe

Journal

The Missouri ReviewUniversity of Missouri

Published: Oct 5, 1988

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