A Chapel — in the Rib of Dawn —
Where Silence kneels — in White —
And Candles — like obedient Stars —
Confess their little Light —
The Rosary — a fragile Chain —
Of Murmurs — worn by Thumb —
Each Bead — a small Eternity —
Where restless Spirits come —
The Organ — lifts a wounded Wing —
Through Arches made of Stone —
As if the Dust — remembered God —
Before it was — our Bone —
The Priest — a solemn Traveler —
Between the Veil — and Breath —
Who speaks of Life — with quiet Hands —
And sanctifies — our Death —
The Virgin — in her patient Blue —
Still watches — without Sound —
A Sorrow — only Mothers know —
Too holy to be found —
And Faith — perhaps — is but the act —
Of standing — when alone —
To hear a distant Mercy call —
And answer — as its own —
EXPECT LIGHTNING STRIKE
GOD TELLING TRUMP TAKE A HIKE
LEO HIM I LIKE
TRUMP NOT INTO POPE
THE FREAKING POPE TRUMP, YOU DOPE
CATHOLICS WILL COPE
Fall is breathing its dying breaths
and a chill settles deeper into the air.
The first flakes of snow have dusted the ground
leaving the world glimmering,
starlight reflecting off each crystal
and casting a beautifully eerie glow.
Nighttime silence is unbroken
save for the sound of my surreptitious breaths,
which cloud in front of me as they’re slowly released.
I can sense God here.
An all-encompassing presence that fills the emptiness with calm
despite the uncertain shadows lining the ground.
For a moment, just a moment,
(I refuse to allow myself longer),
I am not alone,
and I take comfort in His grace
until I’m greeted inside by the laughter of my family
and the warm glow of the fireplace.
This I can be certain is real,
this tangible, palpable love.
This is what I’ll live with my heart set on.
Where I land in the end is known only
to the holy adjudicator.
But as my mother’s love is enduring and unconditional
(unlike His, daily damning innocents and the joyously enamored),
I choose to establish my acts within such power
rather than living by divine ideal.
“I AM life’s Bread,”
The Lord, Jesus, said
He never faltered
Words ne’er altered
“I AM the Way.”
They turned away
Couldn’t bear the thought
Of what He taught
“Eat My Flesh, drink My Blood.”
Yet no one could
It was the law
There was no flaw
This new teaching
Seemed to be breaching
What they always knew
Obeyed as a Jew
They couldn’t see
This was He
Who gave this Word
They’d always heard
Who made the change
That seemed so strange
“Eat My Flesh, drink My Blood.”
They couldn’t see this was good
New Covenant to bring them to
The very same God, Who
Willed from the beginning
Despite our sinning
For all to come to be
With Him eternally
That He gave His Flesh and Blood
On that holy wood
By His death on the Cross
We gained from His loss
The very Life of His
In the Holy Eucharist
His Flesh for me to eat
For it is just and meet
His Precious Blood outpoured
To be worshipped and adored
For only by the merits of He
Could we enjoy Heaven’s eternity
Since by our grievous fault
We closed the Heav’nly vault
He made for us a new way
By life-giving words He did say
“This is My Body, this is my Blood”
Take and eat, take and drink as you should
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