Along the Way
I have at times condemned the good that came to me And
sometimes I have made another bear a cross At times I stood and watched
them struggle to their feet At times I sat, a man, and judged a
womans loss. But sometimes Ive been forced to bear a
strangers cross Or volunteered my veil to cool a fevered face
Winced to watch them fall again; helpless watched them pass And wept for
those of whom no others wished a trace. Then, too, I grow impatient
with His stumbling pace. I have for fear the truth stripped bare with
my bare hands Have high the hammer raised and held the nail in
place Have pointed at a sufferer and called Him bad. And yet if this
be so then I may hold Him too With love lay Him to rest and hope His
words are true.
-- J.J. Hayes-Rivas Staten Island, N.Y. |
Covered Bridge, Maine
Sometimes, in a dream, I cross the bridge. I meet others
inside the bridge, having come up from the Bowery for a new life.
For sure, the world thinks we are ghosts or if not ghosts, misfits. But
in crossing from one side of the bridge to the other,
we see him,
moving among the deer and the broken rows of birch.
~ ~ ~ He often takes a
shortcut walking the waters before ice out his hands reaching deep into
his pockets to give us bread or fruit,
and we, eager for the good
news, listen as he speaks, the woods suddenly still,
the deer
edging close to lick his wounds.
-- Mary Ann Meade Conshohocken, Pa.
Lent Awaken Us!
Let us disturb the sleeping dogs, burn clean the
worldly clinging, tattoo our ashes.
Withdraw a stones
throw to pray, Ask for this promise: Lightning is the warp and
woof of our flesh.
-- Jacqueline Dickey South Bend, Ind. |