she says, that is not God’s, and we approach
a crow ripping the entrails
of a truck-crushed fox, and the crow flees
The hospital chaplain who sits in the room of a sick child
in Chicago and brings the child to God—not with words
but by her quiet presence.
As a Sojourners intern last year, I, along with my community-mates, had the opportunity to request speakers to invite to address us during weekly seminars. Peace activist and poet Fr. Daniel Berrigan was on the top of my list.
Alb: A white liturgical tunic worn as prayer for a heart protected from all stain and washed in the Blood of the Lamb.
Listen to this reading and an interview with poet Mary Anne Reese.
Because I lay on my back as a boy in the grass of the small yard behind our house watching clouds move and become faces, mostly,