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.
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