“If Jesus were a prophet, he would know that the woman touching him is a sinner” (Luke 7:39). If she came through the doorand said, Jesus,would He turn and seetoo much in her eyes? If she knelt to wash His feet,her tears, her hands, her haircolliding at His hem, would the men say, Woman,you have . . . . Continue Reading »
Life’s a slow bus to the edge of town,With unplanned stops along the way.Trust in the driver; he won’t let you down. Traffic lights shine on a sidewalk clown,Waltzing the hours till he turns gray.Life’s a slow bus to the edge of town. The potholes in the pavement’s crownJolt the passengers . . . . Continue Reading »
The bells ring out. We’re gathered roundoutside the church. Unhallowed groundis where we celebrate this year.We celebrate, since Easter’s here And we will consecrate this groundsix feet apart. We hear the soundof pealing bells, since Easter’s here,and we have overcome our fear And gathered, . . . . Continue Reading »
“With clouds descending,” says the book,the day of his appearing, thus,might, just as any other, lookat first like when from broken skies to usa sudden ray of sun shines through,greening the ground on which we stand. Some dissent. In these dark times newwording twists; others demandno word be . . . . Continue Reading »
St. Patron’s School depends on your supportTo clothe the Native children, care for, feed,And to provide affection of the sortWe understand all human beings need. Enclosed in these white envelopes, please findDreamcatchers in a popsicle arrayOf shades, to clear the nightmares from your . . . . Continue Reading »
The way the light of youfinds me through the hot,bright unnamable blue, that square of ancient glassin the high apse window,backlit at mid-day Mass: blue should not feel like burning,like a blazing lighthouse lamp,so here I am, learning this color like a childtoo young for words: this blueto seek . . . . Continue Reading »
Another year has passed. Does your first Mass seemlike yesterday? Such bliss, so rapturous, mustneeds spring forth from the Ancient of Days, timeless.A mystic yet, or a stubborn skeptic still?Have you learned to practice what you preach? Hasten.Sister Death may just lead you to the Throne thisyear. . . . . Continue Reading »
In dream, she fished with silk of swans,Baited her hooks of hammered bronze With rainbow strips of cuttlefish,And might have paused to make a wish Or prayed her prayer for daily breadBefore she cast the humming thread Into the seven seas of years,Into the music of the spheres, Into the . . . . Continue Reading »
Clouds like ice broken on the surface of a lake,Shifting forms of Pangaea that gravitate towards the sun,Light rising bright impenetrable and distant. I wait with ease in the terminal in a plastic seat.But in memory and in future and in other heartsIs a tension—to get where you are needing to . . . . Continue Reading »
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