Imaginings of St. Damien of Molokai

Silent and alone In this island church With Him, and Her, and Them, The bowl was boiling. I had to see the boils to know One Light, one foot with no feeling, Immersed in God's great chemistry, as One heart burns over the legion of Suffering pirates falling apart Like the petals of forsaken flowers, Into my spirit of fire, flaming My love of people. Now "blessed with this disease," I move the basin aside with Work beckoning (always and forever) And make my way towards church doors Opening myself fully into the light of our days. The breathe of our pain, The exhalation of sweet and bitter time. Amen, I say, to the acts which hang upon grace.