I held out empty cups,
Dipping into streams
Running past my door,
Leaving me in dust-dry thirst
The spring flows
-- Betty A. Boudreaux
Deep, dark, fragrant, moist,
rich soil of the
Yes, and more.
But dead earth? Just dirt?
I dont think
Earth is busy, always working,
greening herself for our
and our sustaining.
Busily she knits grasses and trees
flowers and fruits,
telling stories all the while
of other days when she
embers cooled from the fire
of Gods creating
and of all her transformings
into trees and grasses and flowers and
and fish and animals and people.
Like me, you say? I cant
I dont understand the words you speak.
Not yet, but
Then Ill join you in your knitting,
and in your
and in your transforming.
Some call this joining
It sounds like life to me.
-- Christine M. Baty
Arlington Heights, Ill.
cherished in gardens
on a variety of clothes
more or less
blossom for the joy of those who see
-- Sr. Martin Dominic Austen
Some days, I will skip daily mass,
And take up worship
in the park.
Under cathedral vaults of sacred oak trees,
spread a crisp white napkin
Over a dingy splintered park bench,
overhead, God orchestrates hymns with
Gently gusting winds through the
canopy of leaves.
There is no lector, and so I sit in
Calling forth a litany of deeply buried Psalms,
from my heart.
Inevitably from the river, the fishermans bell
Ignorant of rubrics, I unceremoniously break
A baguette from my brown tabernacle sack.
Like Francis of Assisi, I
minister first to gulls,
Then to squirrels, who resound amen
With a flap
of a wing, and a flick of the tail.
Then, homeless Ben crouches in front
Concealing every bit of his holiness.
Crudely Ben polishes off the
And in a gruff reciprocal gesture, offers me
A swig from his nasty
Bread and wine, body and blood. I find myself shaken
the proper wording of liturgy escapes me.
Meanwhile, in all his wildness,
Ben watches and waits.
Reluctantly, I close my eyes, purse my lips
Take a quick burning sip.
Ah, the mystery of faith!
not a Guardini liturgy,
And yet is suffices.
-- Sascha T. Moore
Port Huron, Mich.
National Catholic Reporter, October 1,