Shape me, God, and form me like the tide shapes her shoreline, like the flame reforms the wick. Let me be your monstrance: and never veiled in sackcloth but radiant with your presence close within. Let me be the gospel by which your love is preached to friend and stranger: and let me not beContinue reading “St. Patrick”
Sometimes I lack peace from the first moment of the day, like waking up to find you’ve been robbed. And I go from room to room talking, but not speaking, seeking, but not finding in that hateful drought. I go back, like a stiff-necked people to the land I was enslaved in. Like a dog returnsContinue reading “Fifth Wednesday of Lent”
I am told the salt shaker goes to the north of the pepper, facing toward Mt. Hood. I do not know why, but I suppose this is how it must be, as our churches should face east because we strain like kids at a parade to be the first to catch a glimpse of theContinue reading “Fifth Tuesday of Lent”
I am like a pair of headlights on a lonely lane, bright eyes fixed on the middle distance. What lies beyond the radius of my gaze is only darkness. I know where I have been, but the destination and the very route I take and each stop along the way— and how many seats areContinue reading “Fifth Monday of Lent”
Sunlight rests on the surface of a mirey pond like a sheen of oil on the sea. It does not pierce the depths, neither does it warm— but only glimmers uselessly. This is day 33 of LABIA MUNDA, a series of forty poems during the forty days of Lent.
Que milagro haces!— que un día solo ilumina Tú en cien disfraces y tantos con sonrisas ya una coronada de espinas. This is day 32 of LABIA MUNDA, a series of forty poems during the forty days of Lent.
Are we anything now but the co-authors of a vast and lonely library where poetry gathers dust alongside theology, and linguistics, and a treasure trove of in-jokes we no longer care to understand? Artifacts of a bygone age like the Roman coin: spent, stolen, spilt blood even, now buried in an unlabelled drawer. There areContinue reading “Fourth Friday of Lent”
Breaking down is easy. It requires only a hammer and an eye for where to hit and where to pry. Building up, now—that takes hours and many false starts, and mistakes and extra screws, and its byproduct is frustration but its product is a chair. Just that. Made to hold a human being, more precious thanContinue reading “Fourth Thursday of Lent”
Noli timere … quod enim in ea natum est, de Spiritu Sancto est. (Matt 1:20) One night in the dark my brother, when I’d told him to trust in God and ask humbly his will be done, told me, with a guileless honesty, “it’s the only prayer I know.” It was that prayer I prayedContinue reading “St. Frances of Rome”
A tree planted in running waters longs to flower and bear fruit in every season, but though the waters run and the sun bloom bright, sometimes flowers wither on the stem, fruits rot on the branch for want of harvesting. And the flowers that blossom one season in another fall to petals on the streamContinue reading “St. John of God”