into the thick
I need to be in the in-between where the dirt and grime dark, light fill cracks break backs and help one know the timeless truth “I AM with you.”
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an economy of love
When I was 20 I studied abroad in South Africa. When I came home, I was a bit of a mess. I was angry about the drastic economic inequality that I encountered in Southern Africa during my six months away. Something felt horribly wrong about how people could live in a secure mansion while the people…
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with my feet
A version of this post was previously posted here. While I was in my early 20s and discerning sisterhood, I felt insecure about my prayer life. I envied people who were able to wake up at the same time every day and pray in the same way. I had some silly impression that that’s what…
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power to the people
Jesus gave power to the people a long time ago. The power is still with the people today. People are uniting and speaking out and rising up working for the type of justice Jesus taught us about- the justice of love. They’ve done this since the time of Jesus. Then and now the people use…
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Ode to St. Francis
Father of feasting, fasting and fun: your ecstatic love of God still feeds us with inspiration, devotion, commotion, communion, so we gather up sticks and play violins. we kneel in the dirt praying praising, remembering our mother earth, our sister water, the fox our brother Jesus a babe, born so simple in a barn, poor-…
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Santa Chiara praying
This is a poem I wrote and published here last year, on the feast of St. Clare: pregnant with poverty she stands up boldly holding Truth with “always” piercing her lips the pure Truth-Light shields and embraces her back covered with brown like earth she beckons community to the table breaking open Bread of union…
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ugly body
orange over me upon still solemn sidewalk silent under black My breathing quickens. the truth is too tight: innocent men are confined tortured to death human-inflected trauma in the name of national security The cells of my eyes water what my heart holds. my love, Jesus, tortured by thorns, nails, cross laments stab while questions…
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a children’s story
We rise with sleep in our eyes. We dance on the broken ground. We run to town to tell the news. In the grave? Not there, no more! Somehow and someway, life has won. Easter morning has arrived. Hooray! Satan sees that God’s Truth teases. Freedom lives. Love is power. Peace redeems. “Ha, take that!” …
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instruments of peace
At the high school where I work we begin we begin every day with prayer. On Fridays the entire school says the Peace Prayer of St. Francis. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiXz3QI0SMM] The words weren’t written by St. Francis. The Peace Prayer of St. Francis was written in the 1900s and became popular during World War II. The words…
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hallow hope
Bored with the rosary beads and anxiety of agendas I gaze up from the corner chapel in my 9th floor imaginary tree house home. My blurred vision moves from the cross to the obnoxious glow of the golden arches and hallows the hope that once was fire warming my heart over the violent city. Yet,…
