I quietly and invisibly
live my faith,
and accept life’s
incessant curveballs;
I am obedient to my
Manager’s wish for
bunt singles
instead of home runs.
The people of the world
are sitting in the box seats,
busied with food
and entertainment;
living in another world,
they have no idea
what I’m doing
in the batter’s box.
But Our Lord, Our Lady,
and the heavenly court
happily cheer me on
from the upper deck;
I live my life behind
the cross,
living in the dark night
of the unseen.
Your attractive dark hair,
very long and wavy,
flowed aimlessly and
hopelessly over your
darkened eyes --
you were worn out
by the world’s dirty coins
and dirtier men.
But when you met
Him, the brightest light
of the purest love
streamed into your eyes,
driving the deadly demons
into a fearful frenzy and --
suddenly -- you found yourself
finally free.
Then, on the third day,
you giggled like a little girl
as you jubilantly ran
from the tomb
to the upper room
of your heart,
with a smile sparkling
and a soul soaring.
It is said that one day
You had a great vision,
Did you accept it?
Or reject it in derision?
The vision came true
When little Mary was born,
So for you and Anne
Was it a glorious morn?
You praised the Lord
That His will was done,
But when did you know
She was a chosen one?
Even little John was not
Fit to untie His sandal,
Was a virgin birth too much
For you to handle?
As the wind blows,
Your wise brown eyes
Are covered by wisps
Of your brown hair;
You watch your
Little Maria,
Your saintly cherub,
Skipping away
With a smile;
Your finely furrowed brow
Is knitted in a knot,
As you are pensively
Waiting, wondering:
What does the Mighty One
Have in mind for my
Darling dark-haired daughter?
May the Messiah be on the move?
You were a zealot against the Romans,
Whom you terribly wanted to crush,
Perhaps you dreamt of spearing their skulls,
And watching their bright blood gush;
But Jesus of Nazareth was meek and mild,
And he turned the other cheek,
When He healed the Roman’s servant,
Did you think the Messiah was weak?
But Jesus spoke to rich and poor
With an amazing proclamatory power,
And before no man -- Jew or Roman --
Did He ever stoop or cower;
His multitudinous miracles filled your
Heart with amazement and with awe,
Almost imperceptibly you came to realize
That He was the fulfillment of the law.
Some say that you were cruelly crucified,
Just like Our Most Blessed Lord,
Others say you were sawed in two,
With your body savagely and brutally gored;
Either way, the acid anger of hate corroded
The malicious murderers’ brains,
While in your holy heart God’s Spirit
Everlastingly and eternally reigns.
With smug sarcasm you doubted Philip:
The Christ from Nazareth could not come;
To you it sounded like your friend’s
Naivete was in reality pretty dumb.
But this Jesus said, smiling softly,
That he had seen you under the fig tree;
Your spiritual eyes suddenly opened, and
The true Messiah did you finally see.
You saw Lazarus lazily lurch forward,
As he stepped out of his rocky grave;
This was one of many amazing miracles
That in the end your soul did save.
Decades later, you screeched and screamed in pain
As your sordid killers skinned you alive;
But now your bright eyes see Heavenly glory
Where for eternity you very happily thrive.
You were the first bishop of Jerusalem,
And were known as James the Just,
As Jesus’ cousin and St. Jude’s brother,
People knew that you they could trust;
Your knees thickened like a camel’s,
From all your time kneeling in prayer,
You had a long beard and lots of hair,
And you always treated people fair.
The Jewish leaders failed with St. Paul,
So they turned their ire towards you,
Their raging revenge was out of control,
And their delirious desire grew;
They wanted to crush the New Way,
So they pursued you like angry apes,
Christians were sprouting up everywhere,
Like vineyards full of plenteous grapes.
You bravely refused to reject the Christ,
So they threw you from the temple’s pinnacle,
Their grotesque expressions were ghastly,
As they chose to be stubbornly cynical;
Then they hurled jagged stones at you,
And with a mallet broke your bones,
But you uttered prayers for your attackers,
In between your painful groans.
You were a son of Zebedee and Salome,
And brother of John the Apostle,
Though your fishing boat was very reliable,
It was definitely nothing colossal;
You were a fiery fisherman from Galilee,
And Jesus called you a son of thunder,
Perhaps your anger flared in the boat
When your brother committed a blunder.
You saw Jesus rise at the Ascension,
And it stirred in you a most pious desire,
Then within your breast burned a glorious zeal
Which glowed like a holy fire;
But King Herod Agrippa persecuted Christians,
And wanted them to go away,
He thought that killing a respected apostle
Would make them cease to pray.
It’s very true that King Herod seemed
Like the most vile and pernicious slug,
He was very much like his grandpa,
Who killed the holy innocents like a thug;
His wretched grandfather was selfish,
The very violent Herod the Great,
Who savagely slaughtered the babes of
Bethlehem in his beastly ire and hate.
Being a member of Jesus’ inner circle,
You had a target on your back,
The giant executioner grunted, as he
Chopped off your head with a whack;
You became the first apostolic martyr,
In the year A.D. forty-four,
But Jesus awaited you with a beaming smile,
As you opened that Heavenly door.
Son of Thunder, you requested that Jesus
Revengefully rain down ferocious flames,
You wanted to get back at those fools from
Samaria who wouldn’t welcome Him;
But your fisherman’s soul was softened
By the Savior, as Love taught you to love,
You were transformed by the Transfiguration,
And you soon became the Apostle of Light.
During the Last Supper, you leaned on Love,
And, alarmed, asked Him about the traitor,
Then, later, you saw the wondrous wounds
Of Love wash away the world’s guilt;
He gave you His Most Blessed Mother,
And you cared for her with holy compassion,
You, the Beloved Disciple, bravely and
Courageously taught us obedience.
You were the miraculous martyr who
Survived a bubbling, boiling cauldron of oil,
Then the Roman Emperor Domitian
Egregiously exiled you to the isle of Patmos;
Hideous heresies denied Christ’s divinity,
So you wrote a glorious gospel to refute them,
You were the mild mystic, the peaceful preacher,
And the unforgettable Apostle of Love.
Mother of Divine Grace, ever so kindly
Preserve me in humble piety and patience;
Ask the gentle Jesus to pour upon me
His heavenly hope and gladdening grace.
You merit praise for being a perfect mirror,
Reflecting His merciful compassion;
Because of you, divine favors fall upon me
Like starry raindrops from the sky.
I am a little candle in the cave, and the
Birth of the blessed Babe is mystical to me;
Pray that your sovereign Son will help me
To be single-hearted in the Spirit.
The Timeless One is triumphantly shoehorned
Into Time, and He totally transfigures it;
Guide me and show me how to live in the
Eternal present of the loving Lamb.
Mother of Christ, you are the treasured
Tabernacle of the Most High;
The brilliant Sun magnificently shines
Forth from you in spiritual direction.
Pray that we may be poor in spirit,
Surrendering to Christ the Compassionate;
Pray that we may be pure in heart,
Like the precious Poverello of Assisi.
Your luminous light-brown hair cascades
Over your shoulders like a waterfall;
Your radiant smile lights up my soul,
As I hold your soft, gentle hand.
You lead me in His holy footsteps, showing
Me the short way, the easy way, to Jesus;
From the depths of my soul I love you,
My Heavenly guide, my darling friend.
Holy Virgin of Virgins, the foolish enemy
Feverishly and frantically pursues me;
Bravely brandish the sword of the Spirit,
And courageously cut him down.
Scatter his seditious stratagems, and
Utterly destroy his devilish plans;
Through your lovely, delicate hands,
May my prayers arise to Jesus’ throne.
The humble beauty of your sweet smile
Eclipses the light of both sun and moon;
Your pristine prayers for me perfume
Highest Heaven with the fragrance of roses.
Ask the Father to teach me truth: that holy
Devotion is possible in any profession;
Quiet queen, ignite the little candle
Of my heart with the fire of compassion.
i-fear-
the-dangerous-and-
dreadful-death-spiral,-
the-dantean-inferno-
of-chilling-chain-reactions,-
of-technological-terrors,-
of-atomic-annihilation,-
of-regressive-progress,-
moving-us-forward-yet-
plunging-us-deeper-
and-deeper-and-deeper-
down-down-down-
into-the-frightening-funnel-of-
tomorrow
Rita rushes madly all the day long,
She’s petrified things will turn out all wrong;
Her two nervous eyes seem made of green rock,
That shift like the pendulum of a clock;
Keep up with the Joneses, she must, she must,
Or all of her dreams will turn to grey dust;
Her sad sour life is a merry-go-round,
And Fear chases her like a hungry hound;
Tragically, she lives at a breakneck pace,
With worrisome wrinkles on her blank face;
Rita’s afraid she just might go crazy,
The truth is that her future’s quite hazy;
She needs to run, run, run, and buy, buy, buy,
But she never stops to ask herself why.
O Lighthouse of Love, you shine as a beacon
Of God’s mercy to deliver us from darkness;
In your sublime sweetness, teach us
To share this mercy with the world.
Our meddlesome enemy muddles our
Daily lives with intoxicating idols;
May the Lord’s renewing rain rinse us
Clean of corrosive, inordinate desires.
From His youth, and through the years,
Jesus offered Himself to you in obedience;
May we too listen to the merry melody
Of your delicate, dulcet voice.
Reach out and rescue us who are in need
Of the refreshment of God’s love;
Pray that as overwhelmed outcasts we may find
Favor and holy hope in the triumphant Trinity.
Sweet Queen, I glory in your gracious goodness,
With my whole soul I delight in you;
I declare with a dancing heart that you bring
Me ever nearer to the joys of Jesus.
Through you I thrive, in a life filled with
Thanksgiving, as you invite me to Heaven;
With you as my guide, I gladly glide along
The river of life closer to the Messiah.
You are the heavenly funnel through
Which the fountain of the Spirit flows;
With excitement in your eyes, you point me
Towards your Son, who patiently awaits us.
I run with you through the fields of grace,
With your hand clasped in mine;
We laugh with elation, our hearts filled
With the ecstatic love of the Holy Spirit.
O heavenly Star,
I am living in the dark night
Of unknowing,
Searching for peace in uncertainty.
O Lighthouse in the sky,
I am living in the dark night
Of the unseen,
Trying to die slowly to myself.
With your beacon of light,
Like a laser sword from Heaven,
You strike and slay
All my enemies.
I rejoice in the source
Of your powerful light,
Christ the Courageous,
Your only Sun.
It opens up its cavernous mouth
and exhales its cigar breath,
then it prepares for its next meal,
more greedy gamblers,
who are like meaty drumsticks
dreaming of finally
hitting the jackpot
and filling their huge pockets
with millions of clinking coins.
It opens its mouth and
hungrily,
gluttonously,
gobbles them up,
chewing on the tasty meat
of their fat wallets.
After swallowing their savings,
it rudely spits them out,
fleshless,
penniless,
bags of bones.
When wild-eyed fear
screams,
all too often
I sit down and
turn up the volume;
but clicking mute
and walking away,
fear is silenced
in the mysterious
dark night.
Did he learn how to
share?
Or did he shoot his popgun
because he didn’t
care?
Was this lad a contented little
child?
Or with fear
did his radical head run
wild?
Did he eat his meals in
peace?
Or if there was no meat,
did his impatient fury never
cease?
Was this boy ever
kind?
Or did his terrorized teachers
raise a furor thinking he lost his
mind?
Did he turn the other
cheek?
Or did he revengefully
call every enemy a
freak?