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.