Prayer Poems*

 

                                                Moments after he began

                                                when his heart was still

                                                the saint would slowly ply his pen

                                                with the steadied touch

                                                of an artistís favorite brush.

 

                                                Words would tumble on the

                                                parchment thirsting for redemption

                                                like a sky blue waterfall

                                                from a silver mountain face

                                                freshening the barren valley floor.

 

                                                Straightaway they poured

                                                from the secret seam

                                                inside the garden habitat

                                                where only he was known

                                                suspended in a sea of innocence.

 

                                                His footsteps crossed the sky

                                                falling like flakes of manna

                                                for the lonely donas

                                                hiding in the sacristy

                                                seeking fragments from his priedieu

 

                                                waiting for the moment when

                                                the chapel chimes awoke

                                                and he glided to the altar

                                                for the morning Mass.

 

 

                                                            Jerome L. McElroy

 

 

            *Accepted in US Catholic (June 2005).