Watchmen

[vaneramos]

The Church of Our Lady Immaculate watches the city. Now that I live in its shadow, its presence seeps daily into my consciousness. Last night on my way home from the café, I felt my eyes drawn to the twin towers softly illuminated with rising light, backdropped by a midnight-blue curtain of sky. A crescent moon swayed overhead. The throne on the hill seems like a magnet for unusual celestial events: moons, comets, roiling thunder clouds. The church is a pair of gargoyle kings crowned with weighty stone, terrible, patient, attentive yet unmoved by the minute triumphs and miseries of my life.