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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
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