Tuesday, December 04, 2018
The Holy Others––poem by Dorothy
The Holy Others
Now I want only
to contemplate the holy ones,
how their lives were shaped
to an intention
as clay is shaped to
a mould, permanent
and strong.
How they rose early
to greet the sanctified
sun,
how at night
they bedded with the stars,
heard the celestial lullabies
lifting them
into sleep.
Teresa in her ecstasy,
heart pierced by
the angelic lance,
John, his neck opened
by a wound of love.
I look for them
even now,
even when the books say
they are long gone,
wafted up into a place
that has no name,
dwelling still in our minds,
our yearning hearts.
DorothyWalters
November 30, 2018
(image from internet)
(image from internet)
