Issue Date: March 19, 2004
POETRY
The Womb
It wasn’t easy, you know, saving this womb for you,
Keeping it empty for you to decide its planting:
the when and the where, to
say nothing of the what.
But I did it, all these years I did it.
Now I am
almost old and I am withering, womb and all,
thinking this will be it, there
will be no planting,
and you -- you come with your Gospel seed to my
withered womb.
I have no choice, really, after all this time.
Do you need
a desert? I am sand.
A manger? I am straw.
A cross?
A cross?
You
need a cross?
I should have known. From the
beginning, I should have
known.
Magnificat.
Amen.
-- Sr. B. DeRouen, OCarm
Lafayette, La.
Monasteries
Monasteries are like labyrinths,
Once you get in, you
can’t get out
Round and round you go, exercising
myths and
rituals
Daily, monthly, seasonally, annually,
liturgically,
Lasting a
lifetime
As one prepares for timeless eternity,
The labyrinth to end and
mend all paths,
ways and roads not taken.
-- Br. Benedict Janecko, OSB
Latrobe, Pa.
Helpless Love
Hopkins writes:
the heart rears wings.
I know this to be
true
This I also know:
the heart rears arms.
And in our
prayerful
helpless love
for those who are hurting
We wrap our
heart’s arms
around them
Sometimes this is all we can
do.
-- Linda Zralek
Nashville, Tenn.
|
National Catholic Reporter, March 19, 2004 |