logo
 
back
e-mail us
 

POETRY


Spring Flood

The river that is God
runs past my house
but I am busy
building makeshift shrines
with broken stones

The river that is God
runs past my house
and glitters silver
while I am busy
sewing sequins
on my clothes

The river that is God
runs past my house and widens
into oceans
but I am busy
stacking dams
across my doors

The river that is God
runs past my house,
sings four-part harmony
while I crash cymbals,
mocking music

The river that is God
runs past my house,
mirrors vast blue sky,
but I seek sunlight
in the mud

The river that is God
leaps past my house,
flashes fish
while I scrape dry holes for food
and drink water out of thimbles

The river that is God
swells and rises,
floods my house,
breaks apart my walls
and sweeps me,
sprawling, surprised
into its rushing waterfall.

-- Bernarda Sharkey
Oklahoma City


Mighty Maid

(Based on John 15:1-8)
Springtime and
my true Vine
begins to sprout
with
tiny shoots
peeking forth
from deadwood darkness.

Spring cleaning time
for my cluttered dwelling place
too much filled
with barren branches
and
broken promises of praytime,
contemplation
cast aside
in favor of
junk food.

Yet wholesome fruit
and
vegetables in plenty
I would bear
for my own fulfilling
and the nourishment of
my people.

But first,
I must be cleansed ...

What is it
dear Mighty Maid God
that needs to go
so I can grow?

-- Sr. Christine Schenk, CSJ
Cleveland


High Notes

Miranda Meyer
Sang in the choir
At her church in
Old West Wheeling.

She sang in all keys
And hit her high Cs
With tones of ear
Splitting feeling.

It was not by choice
That she lost her voice
When it soared out
Through the ceiling.

-- Robert J. La Lanne
Mukilteo, Wash.

National Catholic Reporter, May 28, 1999