Sister Elizabeth
Incomprehensible are the
Petty landmarks that linger in a person's life
It happened so long ago
That I'm surprised I still remember.
In St. Thomas' parochial school
When Sister Elizabeth held a ruler
In her pale white hands
Any signs of mercy
Mysteriously vanished from her blue eyes
Religion was her weapon
Corporal punishment it's end
Fueled by frustration
She held the class
In fear.
Every school day
Was a grey morning
Of my longing to be somewhere else
Standing by the door
In a robe
Of darkest wool
Sister Elizabeth counted us in
One by one
As we walked in silence
Hair combed
Little backs held straight.
From her glance
The message was clear
Grade school was not about deep thoughts
Or clever ideas
Originality was not in vogue
It was about small things
That grown-ups winked at
And often ignored
Issues, important as the color of beige.
One dull morning
I whispered to a classmate
When I shouldn't have
Called to the front by Sister Elizabeth
I was given the ultimate punishment
The ruler and then some
In her capable hands my palms were lacerated
When I cried out
She turned my hands over
Until my knuckles bled
Darkening the cuffs of my white shirt.
That evening my mother cried at my bruises
And my father uttered a string of curses
Long into the night
True
Sister's time was not easy
Teaching mindless brats
Such as myself
Only added to her
Disappointment.
Over the years
Attitudes changed
Commitments weakened
And Sister, childless and alone, realized
Much too late
That her days of sacrifice and Catholicism
Chastity and prayer
Had been a life against nature.
Even now my hands cringe
To a fist
When someone holds a ruler
For the wounds are marked deep
In memory.
Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2009
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