A Morning Ode
Radiate joy in being born.
Glory in feeling
the breeze of a spring morn.
Let your body radiate
And gladness clothe
As you praise and contemplate
The priceless gift thou
Lift your shining face to the morning sun.
Let your eyes break free
from sadness and gloom,
And thank God for the body that sprang
With string instruments sing.
Fill the air with
songs of mirth.
Dance under the shadow of mornings wing
gifts God has given you from birth
Then all manner of people
Will eat the
Of your awakening:
The weak will wax strong and glory in being
The lonely shed their gloom and sing songs of mirth,
And the sad
dry their tears and dance.
-- Br. Thomas More, CFX
Jonah set out to flee to Tarshish
presence of the Lord
Off he flees in the opposite
of Nineveh, away from all those bacchic
Assyrians, who might
repent at Gods word,
away from my presence, away from his call.
I, Yahweh, hat in hand, hear No,
I will not go to Nineveh to
salvation from their ziggurats,
where incense is offered to
Stomping righteous feet, he bitches toward Joppa:
Yet now Nineveh, totem to blood,
whose shame stands naked before your
I, bring your nettled Word? Fat chance!
I pay my desperation
behind his Lordship, land, and temple court.
But his presence
violates the boundaries
of geography, pursues me on the
Quit of Yahweh he would be in Tarshish?
I, who invented
stretched out the heavens, shut in the upper waters,
the deep foundations of the earth,
and he would cup me in his hand,
teach me wisdom,
put commands between my teeth, build borders
mercies. Tell me, you who are wise,
why am I lumbered with this frazzling
So I have the sailors suicide him
into the sea, swallowed
of my servant whale, who finds the prickly ballast
indigestion. That speaks to me.
For three days and three nights
was in the dyspeptic beast, rumbling among
the odds and ends of
last nights supper,
then belched onto the port of his
-- Fr. Kilian McDonnell, OSB
The siren call of the ocean
Prances in with great
foaming white caps --
Like the ravaging roar of pranksters
dancing to the shore.
Come in, come in they beckon.
Step out into the
deep and I will wash you clean
Of all your weariness, your disappointment,
Trust me with your flimsy life
As it washes away into
Dragging the fearful and timid straggler
Who is unable to
surrender to the great cleansing.
The shores power circles the mystery
and rising --
Life and death.
Awaken in us a surge of this
-- Sr. Patrice Geppi, SSND
Be alert! says the Buddha.
awake. But here, it is dark.
The amphibian lids droop over
and diamondbacks shift in Galapagos,
not knowing the
notebooks, still dreaming
of dreaming, while finches beaks
The strategies of time roil in slow motion
kingfishers catch -- dragonflies draw
shook foil greets Hopkins on his knees,
scrutinizing fire and
finding it good.
-- Anne Heutte
No Way Home
(for the memory of Paul Wellstone)
one light along
And no stars
And the bridge is icy
the flowers have fallen
Emmaus is on the low road
And we still
look for the hitchhiker
-- Michael Welch
La Crosse, Wis.
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National Catholic Reporter, November 29,