| The Whoring Daughter In the sixth month the angel Gabriel
was sent to a town in Galilee
... Luke 1:26
Mister Sun, I ask you
not to rise; today’s the
day.
Soon it will show, and mother
will know; women learn
to tell
before the belly
swells. My morning vomit
I’ve hid till now,
like sweeping
bits of garbage beneath the rug.
Mother sees with her
nose so
I’m trapped in shame. Impossible
to postpone the telling,
but what
words and where and how?
Really now, can a daughter
say
to her mother, “I’m no slut
and Joseph’s not to
blame,
but I’m pregnant, though no man
led me behind the
shed?
You see, mother, while I was busy
in the kitchen with a pitcher
of water
I’d brought from the well this angel
of light appeared
to say
the Holy Ghost will shadow
and rest upon me to make
a child
within my womb
without the blanket or seed
of any man. You and
Papa
are chosen vessels of a chosen
daughter.” Absolute
madness.
But it must be today.
-- Fr. Kilian McDonnell, OSB
Collegeville, Minn.
|
Holy Thursday
On seeing a Bradford pear tree“Do this in memory of Me ...”
echoes round the
globe.
As, pointing heavenward,
the topmost branches skim the
sky
while all the others
swoop and stretch
in yearning
Each
tender branch, as
anointed priestly hands, lifts,
raises high, fragile
whited petals,
multitudinous hosts offered
to heal a troubled,
hungering
starving world.
-- Sr. Mary K. Himens, SSCM
Champaign, Ill.
Untitled
early morning walk
inhale the eternal now
savoring sunrise
-- Kathleen Wardach
Edgewater, N.J.
|
