Sunday, March 27, 2016

An Easter Poem

(for Elena, whose much-better Easter poem inspired this effort)

A surfeit of lilies
and a large congregation
(not quite madhouse
as it's early in the day)

Music at the 7:
cantor and organ
and the hymns
of Charles Wesley
with their rolling alleluias

Beside me
an elderly woman
reverently clutches
a crystal rosary

I am dressed
for Easter Sunday
but my soul's unready
needing more
than the sprinkling
from the aspergillum

I do not receive
the Blessed Sacrament
but stay in my pew
as virtually everyone
else goes up

my neighbour's example
leads me to the beads
and I go to my pocket
and take out my rosary

Christ is risen
he is risen indeed

And have I
risen with him
or am I still
in the tomb?

I hear the words of Isaiah
in which Divinity
upbraids the doubter
Are my arms too short
to save you?

Sometimes I wonder

but then St Ignatius
chimes in Discouragement
is not from God!

his fellow Jesuit
Fr Hopkins tells us
Nothing is so beautiful
as Spring but warns
that spring can sour
with sinning

let me take my stand
with Papa Francesco
and with St Faustina
who trust that Mercy
(like the truth) is great
and will prevail


  1. Oh, yes! Thank you, Thomas. As I walked to Mass this morning, I wished our homes were not so far apart and we could have gone to church together. But this is the next best thing!

    1. That would have indeed been wonderful! :-) I'm very glad you had a happy Easter.

  2. Lovely and true. I particularly like the suggestion that false humility is its own sort of pride and should be exchanged for joyous hope...



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