my poetry

Vigil

We went to Vigil Mass last night
To avoid the storm.
I sat with you in the back.
(It’s easier that way.)
You sat on the kneeler
put your Teddy beside
and looked up
Such Perfection.
Peerless and innocent, ready
To be loved without question,
And I was caught off guard
By the sheer beauty of it.
You sitting on the kneeler,
Smiling up at me, your Teddy right beside.

A photo taken by Blessed Charles de Foucauld (1858-1916) of the Eucharistic Jesus while it was exposed on the altar. What came out was this picture of the child Jesus.

A Poem for The Baby Album

to capture the moment

I take a picture of you-

those unrivaled rolls and cheeks.

(ah! that baby skin! that smile!)

Now, when you’re older I’m assured

to remember you, so perfectly encapsulated!

Yet I know you’ll be changed, grown

unfolded into maturity and real.

And I’ll look at the glossed relic

not with recollection

only disbelief.

 

Old Poem

I found one of my old poems. I would have never written it this way now but kind of like it anyways.

A Mother’s Jewelry
The pendant Hangs
regal and stately.
a book rests open
sorts of tales take shape
and pregnant words become
As they are spoken.

Still she reads, pages attend.

Her rings clink and clank.
gold shimmers stone flashes
as picture in the eye.
heart ranked, mind outflanked,

Still she reads, pages bend.

Surely such rings were forged
to be knelt before, kissed by
priests, advisers councilors of old
her veins they enfold.

Still she reads, pages descend.