In the Wheat ~ Songs in Your Presence


You said things to us
in silence
that fell into deep furrows
of understanding.

So changed were we
that only on reading
about Francis
did we begin to fathom
what had happened to us


We had to speak to You
from black prayer books
thumb-marked with use,
but secretly pursued
other wordless ways
like kneeling without moving
or sitting with hand to head
or watching
a stained glass window
kindle with morning light


Do You remember how each of us
had his own special way
of genuflecting on entering the pew
without stepping on the smooth
leather matting?


We wondered how priests
who told us about You
could bear to busy themselves
with things other than
chalices, patens and palls
and tear themselves away
from things holy
if only for an hour—
intimacies they could indulge in
but we could only long for.
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