Dorothea the Nun
veils escape the province of the sea
like sea lions bouncing balls
presenting their accoutrements.
the silken fare, in the center of the square -
everyone sees the princely dyes.
off to the side, a nun, on her knees
tying shoes, wiping tears with her scapular,
the forlorn child formless and empty, like the earth
in the beginning, until God said, “Let there be light.”
Dorothea, a gift of God, reveals that glory
unseen, untouched by the ladies of the night.
the child swaddled in the nun’s habit, like an embryo -
she hears the mothering heartbeat — as if the ocean,
clear as glass, showed off its icons broadway style.
the child overwhelmed, has no name
for the empirical pounding in her chest.
Sister David they would call her in the penguin house,
a woman after God’s heart, but Dorothea herself
made the covenant.
the veils like clouds swirl all around
in a seaside mist, the dustbowl urn,
“ashes to ashes, dust to dust,”
her mother’s breasts like a harbor
to the seamen, so many of them —
did her father arrive with the rest?
she would never know,
but of this she did — this gift of God
looked into her spindly eyes, made
her habit a boat that sailed far far away
to an island that would shine all day.
children of the silken winds,
battered by retreating shore
found solace together, overrun
by the habits of nuns, with
hands that soothe and discipline,
teach that the flipside of the beach
has warmth and a perfect soulmate.
Be she a fiddler, a thief, or kind —
Dorothea has saved girls’ lives.
5/19/2020
NUN POETRY CONTEST
Sponsor: Julia Ward
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