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Rudolf Schiestl, "Wallfahrt nach Gõßweinstein," 1927 Fembohaus Nürnberg Courtesy Wikimedia Commons
THE
GATE DREW WIDE
A pilgrimage
begins with pains and errors,
A pilgrim
starts with agonies and blisters,
Hips unjointed,
tendons strained and stretched
Back and
shoulders ache, a tired wretch
But suffering
buys strength if he persists,
Scallop on his
hat, cross-staff in fist,
Lost or
strayed, the sun will show the way,
Farther can he
walk with every day
And if the
promised city does recede
The road,
though long, can furnish every need,
A place for
every bird and man to rest
One to his
faith, the other to his nest
And thus the
miracle: the length he strode
Until the end,
though long or short the road
Meant nothing
to the getting of the goal:
The gate drew
wide to welcome in the soul
PRAY
FOR ME
I wrestled my
antagonist
No angel with
an iron grip,
No enemy
anonymous
No wrenching of
a Jacob’s hip
A bald and
bloated atheist
Self-reviling,
self-disdained
Whose heroes
were the anarchists
Who murdered
nuns and priests in Spain
We wrestled in
an arid place
Some prison or
a prison cell
And there the
fiend revealed his face
You could not
name this Penuel—
But when we had
exhausted each
The other’s
strength entirely,
He drew his
breath and then beseeched:
Do not be
angry, pray for me
CROWDS
Whom did you
see at your baptism, tell—
All who on
Earth and in paradise dwell,
Some in their
blessing and some in their sleep—
I saw a great
city and crowds on the streets
Crowds of the
living who came to a stop
To witness your
baptism, drop and by drop
Until in a
shower your skin was washed clean
Of sorrow and
anguish and all that demeans
They stood and
they waited and silently viewed
The soul and
the flesh of the living renewed,
Countless the
crowds in those great thoroughfares
To see how the
blessing of glory is shared
Courtesy Wikimedia Commons
A
BRIDE AND GROOM
If the times of
torment come
The faithful to
the catacombs
Descend with
candle and with stick,
The trimming of
the candle wick
When darkness
moves and magnifies
The emptiness
of Satan’s lie,
The power of
the world above
To conquer
simple, holy love
Then in shadows
Love confides
The Church, His
true beloved bride,
And where she
is an altar set
Is where His
two or three are met,
A bride and
groom if only one,
An altar in a
catacomb
THAT
NOTHING CAN REMOVE
There is a
chapel in the soul—
Have you ever
seen that place?
It is what
Judas never sold,
It is the
safety of God’s grace
In that place
is no regret,
The door
invites, the candles burn,
The altar is a
table set
Though none an
invitation earn
Even godless
you may bless,
May enter in
and kneel in prayer:
Deliver us
from emptiness
Enter now this
moment, dare
A chapel
furnished from the start
With furnishing
of precious love,
It is the
chapel of the heart
That nothing
ever can remove
If you live or
if you die
It will be
there forever more,
All are welcome
but the lie
And ever open
is the door
Matthias Stomer (c. 1660–c. 1650), "Man Reading a Book by Candlelight"
TOLD
TO THE STARS
Look for
yourself in the story
In that great
story book,
The
illustrations are gory
But it all
comes out well—look
Here you are in
the center,
Neither page
one nor the end,
Turn down the
leaf at the corner,
You can read it
again and again
The story has
never been finished
But the cover
is closed at last
When the error
of time is abolished
And the future
is bound with the past
Only the Author
can open
His book to
whatever is there:
Whatever of you
has been broken
Is told to the
stars and repaired
YOU
WILL BE SAFE
I drive them
down a long steep hill,
A small van
with the ones alive
And time is
difficult to kill
Too narrow now
to turn around
Duration only
runs one way
And keeps
dynamic constancy
Down the narrow
zigzag road,
Few, but
precious is this load,
Take them
through it carefully
They trust in
me to drive them through
This
narrowness, I turn the wheel
By sureness and
the commonweal
A pleasant way
this by-road takes,
Little ponds
with ducks and drakes
Bobbing in
eternity
A crossroad at
the bottom goes,
A gorge with
silver current then
Unthreatening
the silver flows
All is
pleasing, even rough
Terrain is
somehow tame enough,
Docile is this
gracious Earth
Turn and turn
again by faith,
Unknowing where
the road will end
You will be
safe as you descend
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