Through the beads
she touches God,
senses His Presence
through her fingers.

Through the beads
she lifts the veil
of hiddenness
and finds Him waiting for her.

Heart speaks to heart.
Whatever He wishes,
she will say yes to it all.

Tomorrow she will come again
with her beads and her fingers.
He will be waiting for her.

MICHAEL

You do not hesitate
to love Me in your youth,
to follow me
along difficult paths.
My eyes delight in your sweetness,
You completely capture my heart.

Each morning I want to sing.
Each evening I hold you
in my arms.
How could I abandon you
in your distress?

Trust Me as you did
when you could laugh,
when your heart was light,
and the color of cranberries
warmed your cheeks.

In a little while
you will rise from your bed.
I will call you by name
and your shouts of joy
will fill the earth!

MISSIONARY IN ALASKA

Mom and dad,
I feel the farness from you
here in Tok.
Our touching seems but a dream.
They joy of your smile
is packed with snowflakes.

My chapel door is open.
I see the red light and know
the Lord is there.
You're thinking of me too.

My heart is full
as we kiss in Tok at night
before a wooden altar
named Rosary.

CONTIGUOUS SPIRITS

A sharp jab down,
a kick in the head,
blood,
the cost of speaking up.

My brothers lie on green grass,
bullet-riddled
by the military
in Salvador.

Will you
for the poor,
for the homeless,
for the disabled?

truth costs!

CLEAR LIQUID IN A CLEAR GLASS

I spoke to him
a clear liquid
in a clear glass.

He wrapped yellow
cellophane around his eyes,
preferring yellow to clear.
Yellow is the color of gold,
of evening sunsets,
of his favorite flower.

I spoke to him
a clear iquid
in a clear glass.

He said everyone he knew
would laugh
if he accepted
clear instead of yellow.
It made no sense at all.

It was too stark,
too plain,
too cold.

He walked away.

FRESH OIL

I find it difficult
to be,
I'm programmed in my bones.
Pleasing is a part of it
I think,
inadequacy from youth
that needs oil,
always, forever.

I try to let go,
but the discomfort
leads to a subtle deception.
I pretend I'm into being
while working on a sermon
to be delivered on Sunday.
There's desperation in this too.
I'm sure I'll be a laughing-stock
or worse.

"Good sermon."
"Liked your sermon, father."