I am a poet. Thus far, my life has yielded more poetry than pennies. Yet, I keep writing, because poetry, for me, like prayer is the deepest utterance of the human heart. My heart as I explore it, as I plunge and drown within its’ depths, discovers that anchor, a God. He is the Risen Christ. When I pray, I ask Him to give me the mind to know Him, and the heart to love Him. At my life’s end, when I am blessed to eternity with Him, I shall know in what ways I pleased Him. Hopefully we’ll avoid those conversations about when I invoked His displeasure and wrath because here on earth, I spend as much time listening as I do praying!
The Catholic priest at the church I attend now seems inspired. He inspired me by saying one day that one sometimes makes a list of saints one would like to meet….I had never thought of the idea. God, yes, my beloved deceased parents yes, poets and writers and thinkers and scientists and …. but saints….? This is when I realized that saints are ordinary people, perhaps the child praying in church with his parents, the angry young man, the retired deacon, the ladies praying the Divine Mercy chaplet…”for the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and the whole world.”……all saints in the making. How beautiful!
The saving grace in my life, then, amidst all my own afflictions and sorrows, is that as Emerson wrote,
“But in the mud and scum of things
There always, always something sings”.