Period of Oscillation

Poetry | B. Fulton Jennes

Galileo looked up from the hard-backed pew 

             to see a chandelier swinging on its long leash of chain—

                        a pendulum startled into motion by a chorus of amens.

As the liturgy lumbered on, the Pisan put a finger

             to his pulse and measured the time it took for the bob

to ferry from aft to fore, fore to aft, 

discovered that though the bob seemed to slow 

             in tracing its ever-narrower path, the duration 

of each sway remained a constant cadence. 

All those years ago, some soundless amen

             set the two of us in motion, sent us traveling in tandem 

as we undulated between pain and joy, awe and grief.

Now, as our transit slackens toward inevitable stillness—

             the clockwork gently consuming its fuel—

let us ask Time to grow languorous and long for us, 

knowing that, just as pendulums appear to dally 

             in dancing their final tendus, their tempo

remains unaltered, as obstinate as God.