Tranquil…
A crown sits slightly uncomfortably perhaps,
Revealing her lack of maturity.
The youthful hair sweeping long and flaxen,
Like woven twists of golden fabric hangs,
Matching the decorative silks upon her garments
Of deep blue and green for her majesty.
St Faith, martyred, her countenance tranquil…
Long, slender fingers caress her open bible,
Her poise and expression thus becalmed.
A sword tucked against the pulse of her wrist,
Her strength, her faith and her devotion confirms.
She leans upon the torturous grid of torment
Upon which her mortal body was cruelly harmed.
St Faith, martyred, her piety unequivocal…
Pete Ray…
One of the depictions of St Faith at Overbury’s church in Worcestershire, as seen in 2017…
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