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| a flock of doves came to visit me in my backyard last week |
DOVES
A dove in the air,
A dove in the sea,
And a dove in your glance
When you look at me.
Feather of dusk,
Wings in the grain,
And a crumpled bird
In the wake of pain.
Everywhere doves
With their drifting wings;
In a dream, in a song
That a poet sings;
In the touch of death,
In the kiss of love,
And God Himself
As a snow-white dove.
~Jessica Powers, in The Lantern Burns
Jessica Powers, Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit (1905-1988), was a Discalced
Carmelite nun and a member of the Carmel of the Mother of God (Pewaukee, Wisconsin). She produced 7 volumes
of poetry: The Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers, The House at Rest, The
Lantern Burns, The Place of Splendor, Mountain
Sparrow and The Little Alphabet (a book of
children's poems), as well as a small collection of Christmas poems, "Journey
to Bethlehem."
I first encountered Powers through her hopeful poem “Repairer of Fences,”
in The
Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers, completed shortly before her death.
THE HOUSE AT REST
On a dark night
Kindled in love
with yearnings –
Oh, happy chance!
–
I went forth
unobserved,
My house being now
at rest.
~St. John of the
Cross
How does one hush one’s house,
each proud possessive wall, each sighing rafter,
the rooms made restless with remembered laughter
or wounding echoes, the permissive doors,
the stairs that vacillate from up to down,
windows that bring in color and event
from countryside or town,
oppressive ceilings and complaining floors?
The house must first of all
accept the night.
Let it erase the walls and their display,
impoverish the rooms till they are filled
with humble silences; let clocks be stilled
and all the selfish urgencies of day.
Midnight is not the time to
greet a guest.
Caution the doors against both foes and friends,
and try to make the windows understand
their unimportance when the daylight ends.
Persuade the stairs to patience, and denythe passages their aimless to and fro.
Virtue it is that puts a house at rest.
How well repaid that tenant is, how blest
who, when the call is heard,
is free to take his kindled heart and go.
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| No. Padre Island, December 2013 |
