One lazy summer afternoon at your house in want of things to do it was determined (I know not how) that I would teach you to meditate. I, bursting with 12 years’ pride and gorged on glinting half-truths found online: you—how many years my senior? 60? more? and my superior in all the virtues, IContinue reading “Second Friday of Lent”
I rise in the morning for war, the very fact of my rising a victory in a string of skirmishes. I forget, in my rising and reading, my writing and praying, my mopping, consoling, studying, sinning, that my every move is bitterly opposed. I forget how much I depend (completely I depend) on you. YouContinue reading “Second Thursday of Lent”
I strive so long to reach you, beat my breast and throw my body down before the Presence on the altar and I pray “Jesus, I adore you,” pray “Father, grant me grace” (meaning “give me more” because what you have given in abundance is evidently not enough.) I spend many words and moments trying to reachContinue reading “Second Wednesday of Lent”
Though in my heart there gapes a hungry hollow, so also is there rocky, fallow ground, and though your rains may fall, each seed you sow is grace stillborn there, grace in saltsoil drowned. Who can live there? and what structure stand there? Not you, O Triune God—can you be found where pride hangs thickContinue reading “St. Polycarp”
At the heart of every love is an “I want you.” And of every sin? an “I don’t need you.” This is day 13 of LABIA MUNDA, a series of forty poems during the forty days of Lent.
The moon is more beautiful on a cloudy night just as the sun is more beautiful in a rainstorm, a sudden insight in the midst of confusion, one right note in a sea of dissonant chords. Yours is a starker beauty when it lines and shines beyond a hundred clouds or through a hundred thousandContinue reading “Second Sunday of Lent”
Grow up, little mangrove tree, not down, though it is in your nature to spread roots far and deep: Grow up, for you are planted in a seedbed that is rich, but one day I will transplant you down from your mountaintop in the salt-water and the mire and hard earth by the sea. Grow up, for yourContinue reading “First Saturday of Lent”
I look at my sin like a middle schooler looks at the drama of his life with a somber and apocalyptic certainty, his heart rent, life spent at a stray word, world crushed under the weight of one girl’s rejection, one failing grade, one mistake (pick any one). And the Father looks down at meContinue reading “First Friday of Lent”
Le ruego, “Colmame, Señor.” Me responde, “Viértete todo.” Como harina de tortillas vertida del talego grande en bolsas pequeñitas se rebosan, y aunque se zarande, no se lo contienen el mayor parte. This is day 9 of Labia Munda, a series of forty poems during the forty days of Lent.
My whole life I have gone away into the hills to pray, as when I was a boy and went and sat beneath a trinity of trees on a mount overlooking my home-town, by night or by day it did not matter in the shade of these three grandmothers, alone except for the wind, the deer, little bugs in the tree-bark,Continue reading “Seven Servites”