VIA CRUCIS

Pummeled by Parkinson’s,

he battles through the basilica,

leaning forward, heavily,

hunched over, crushed

under an invisible

wooden cross, laden

with the world’s woes;

from the ocean of onlookers,

like Veronica with her veil,

a mother mildly lifts up

her little newborn;

the Holy Father’s

old, wrinkled face

winces with pain,

like a warrior’s,

as he most tenderly

blesses the babe

with a gentle kiss;

the spectators exhale

a halo as they breathlessly

and solemnly sigh, “O!”

TO ST. JOHN PAUL II

You have a playful, loving smile

  that was delightfully disarming,

You have pleasant, penetrating eyes

  that looked deep into our souls,

As a humble seminarian you silently

  evaded the nefarious Nazis,

Years later, your heroic words crushed

  the cold-hearted Communists;

Your valiant, victorious voice was

  carried on the wondrous wings

Of the cheerful cherubim who raced

  round the globe and rained down

On the world your heavenly hope

  and wonderful words of wisdom.

You are a saint for our century:

  poignant poet, daring dramatist,

Protector of the powerless,

  merciful mystic, pro-life pope,

And stalwart spearhead who ignited

  the fire of the New Evangelization;

Your hideous opponent the devil,

  like a sly, sneaky soccer player,

Tantalizingly tried to kick abortion

  through Holy Church’s doors, but

As the goalie of the Chair of St. Peter,

  you flicked away temptation,

With your rock-solid shepherd’s staff

  gripped in your warrior-like hands.

In Poland, you relentlessly pursued

  Christ’s love even though

You had to trudge terribly through

  the dreadful, dreary dark night

Of Nazi dictatorship, and you had

  to bear the wicked weight of the

Cruel, crafty Communists in your

  beloved, historic city of Krakow;

Through your remarkable writings

  you lifted us ever so high in the air

In a Heaven-bound spiral, far far above

  the murky mist of moral relativism

And into the sublime, sunny splendor

  Of Christ’s truth and freedom.

TO ST. JOSEPH

Your thick, wavy brown hair happily

  Blows in the breeze of God’s will;

Your warm brown eyes twinkle with

  Contentment, crinkling as you smile.

You protect the holy Babe from Herod’s

  Hellish hands, which are dripping with blood;

In obedience, you help the Holy Family

  Evade him and elusively escape to Egypt.

As a worker, you handle the wood of

  God’s creation with gentle strength;

With industrious ingenuity, you use

  God’s good gifts to serve others.

You shatter lustful temptation with your

  Carpenter’s mallet of holy purity;

Then, as God’s valiant soldier, you slay

  Selfishness with the sword of surrender.

In your loving example, you show little Jesus

  how to be a good son to His mother;

With your humble heart, you teach Love

  How to love, and the angels are amazed.

TO ST. TERESA OF AVILA

As a strong spiritual mother,

You reliably and respectably

Reform the Carmelite order,

And your holy friendship

With St. John of the Cross

Helps your soul spiral upwards

Towards the Heavenly Kingdom;

Then, you close your eyes and

Your spirit penetrates into the heart

Of the Interior Castle of prayer,

And there, during the dark night,

You discover the true Light.

THE MIRACLE OF THE SUN

Like Rosary beads dipped in holy water,

  Raindrops are falling from the sky,

Seventy thousand people in the roaring rain

  Who would really rather be dry;

The valley of the Cova da Iria is a black

  Blanket of umbrellas and hats,

And the drenched, dripping crowd is like

  A muddy mob of very curious cats;

Three children kneel before an outdoor altar

  As they await the promised sign,

And non-believers mockingly joke that

  The children are just tipsy with wine;

The riotous rain finally stops at noon,

  As the weather is forced to succumb,

But noon passes, and Heaven is late,

  So perhaps no miracle will come.

But then a marvelous, mystical stillness and quiet

  Come over this blessed place,

All laughter subsides and totally vanishes,

  Without even the slightest trace;

Our Lady appears to all the three children,

  Wearing garments dazzlingly white,

Her shape is graceful and delicate,

  And her clothing is brighter than light;

Her eyes are like sparkling jewels,

  And her sweet voice makes their hearts sing,

Her face is most exquisitely beautiful,

  And she is a treasure of the great King;

But after hours and hours of waiting,

  The crowd sees nothing at all,

If a Heavenly sign they don’t get,

  Then perhaps the children they’ll maul.

After speaking to the three young children,

  Our Lady casts a glance up above,

She gently points upwards to Heaven,

  With a heart filled with mercy and love;

Then Lucia quickly points at the sky,

  And tells everyone to look at the sun,

They only see a thick cloudy darkness,

  So their expectations are little or none;

But through the clouds the sun is slicing,

  And it’s spinning like a circular saw,

At this very strange and unnatural sight,

  The crowd’s nerves really feel raw;

The sun is like a gyrating sparkler,

  With sizzling sparks flitting about,

It is held by God’s invisible hand,

  He is mighty -- of this there is no doubt.

Then the fickle sun changes colors,

  And the many spectators reflect its glow,

The chamelionic sun lights up sky and land,

  Putting on an impressive show;

First the sun turns a stunning silver,

  And this is followed by a brilliant blue,

Then it turns a glorious, gleaming gold,

  Followed by a most radiant red hue;

Every so often there are stellar explosions,

  With blinding bursts of light,

The people are starting to tremble,

  And are wondering if they should take flight;

They stare at the sun for a very long time,

  Yet none of them hurt their eyes,

The whole crowd gapes in surreal wonder,

  Observing this sign in the skies.

But suddenly unbolted from the wall of clouds,

  The sun moves about in the sky,

It looks like it’s riding on a roller coaster,

  On invisible tracks way up high;

The blazing orb dances in a fiery frenzy,

  Although there’s not a lot of wind,

And glacial hearts are melting below,

  Of those who have seriously sinned;

But now, like a menacing molten meteor,

  The sun falls down towards the Earth,

Thousands of people cry out in terror,

  Not experiencing any kind of mirth;

Alarmed atheists pray Our Fathers,

  As their hearts’ flag of surrender is unfurled,

And agnostics stagger and stumble for cover,

  Fearing it’s the end of the world.

Approaching at a frightful velocity,

  The sun gradually drinks the dark sky,

As the speeding star draws ever nearer,

  The people are preparing to die;

The red giant now fills the heavens,

  And the situation is exceedingly dire,

The surface of the sun is a seething solar ocean

  Of fantastical flaming fire;

But all this time the three good children

  Have visions from the Heavenly realm,

They experience ecstatic joy and peace,

  Since the good God is at the helm;

Then, in the twinkling of an eye,

  The crowd looks up through happy tears,

They’re stunned because their nightmarish vision

  Very suddenly disappears.

Just ten minutes earlier, the spectators in the

  Cova were standing in the mire,

But now, in a flash, it is completely dry --

  Faster than anyone could ever desire;

Ten miraculous minutes…

  Have forever softened many thousands of souls,

Their lives are totally transformed,

  And they no longer seek secular goals;

October 13, 1917…

  Will be remembered throughout all of history,

Though for skeptics who read of Fatima,

  This day may always be a mystery;

Many atheists and agnostics saw a miracle

  That made them turn quite pale,

So know that this story happened,

  And it is not some silly fairy tale.

TO ST. JAMES THE GREATER, THE APOSTLE

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.

TO ST. JOHN XXIII

Some were very surprised you were

Elected by the College of Cardinals,

Still others thought you were not

Dignified enough for the papacy,

Yet Our Heavenly Father chose you.

With your timid smile and mild speech,

Who would have ever thought that

You would have had the courage and

Strength to convene Vatican II,

Yet Jesus Christ knew you.

In your humility you were obedient,

And like the sweetest little lamb you

Trusted Our Good Shepherd

As He held you in His strong arms,

So the Holy Spirit used you.

ST. JUDE THADDEUS THE APOSTLE

You had fabulous fun playing with Jesus,

  Your second cousin who knew no guile,

You loved to visit His mild mother,

  Who always had the sweetest smile;

Through the patient passing of the years,

  You saw the magical messiah mature,

And He chose you and your brother James,

  To be apostles who strive to be pure;

In loving loyalty your mother agonized,

  With Jesus’ mother at the foot of the cross,

Your father Cleophas was monstrously martyred,

  And his death was a dire loss;

But you steadfastly served the Lord,

  And were famous for physical healing,

You happily sought out holiness,

  And spent much time prayerfully kneeling;

In a foreign land you were beaten to a pulp,

  Until you were door-nail dead,

But it wasn’t satisfying enough,

  So your murderers lopped off your head;

Now you wear a martyr’s golden crown,

  And live in Heaven’s perennial jubilation,

Interceding for the Church Militant,

  You help it become a new creation.

TO ST. JAMES THE LESSER, THE APOSTLE

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.

UNEXPECTED JOURNEYS INTO DIVINE MERCY

To escape -- like a coward --

the stranglehold of stress,

I try my best to sidestep

inconvenient interruptions

whose menacing thunder

frightens me;

yet they lead me on a journey

to the God of surprises,

to Heaven’s horizon,

where the sun’s streaming rays

of radiant red and white are

colored by Love’s divine mercy.

TO ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI

Your jolly, joyful eyes dreamily dance

  to the sublime, saintly symphony

Of the unimaginably beautiful creations

  of the Most High Lord God;

Your pious, prayerful persistence

  and earnest embrace transform the

Leprous lechery of our lives into

  the radiant Son-shine of lasting love;

Your voice, like a melodious and

  musical church bell, resonates and

Reverberates throughout the ages

  with the clarity and purity of truth;

Your simple, kindly actions speak

  louder than the sonic boom of the

Ghastly gossip and eloquently

  empty chatter of the world.

TO MY GUARDIAN ANGEL

Guardian Angel, please pray for us,

Because the devil tempts us to obsess,

We must evade the evil of worldly idols,

And not dream of what to possess;

Thirsting for things can thicken anxiety,

Which can seem to never cease,

We struggle and tuggle with all our might,

And banished is all our peace.

The diabolical dragon swoops down,

Determined all good to destroy,

With the flaming fire of enslaving greed,

He seeks to kill all devotion and joy;

But as our trustworthy guide from Heaven,

With love you sing a sweet prayer,

And your words rise like a happy dove

Higher and higher up into the air.

Your shining shield of protection

Guards us from the devil’s snare,

You deflect the dragon’s temptation,

And it evaporates into the air;

Gratitude is like a stream of living water,

Delightfully refreshing us during the day,

It brings joy to the heart and revives us,

While washing temptation away.

But when the evil one’s persuasive poison

Threatens to seep deep into our heart,

Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,

So that it pierces our soul like a dart;

When we dance with delight with temptation,

Help us the crucifix recall,

For the cross crushes the devil’s teeth,

And into hellish Styx he will fall.

Meditating on the gore of Golgotha,

Our hearts like tearful candles melt,

Knife-like nails puncture his palms,

And blood trickles to where Our Lady knelt;

Then our foolish obsessions are obliterated,

By the power of His holy love,

And we are magnificently made new,

By His grace flowing from above.

Trying to lure us into obsession,

The devil deceptively dangles his bait,

But seeing you push us out of harm’s way

Only fuels his mad fury and hate;

We escape the avalanche of avarice,

That crushes the soul like snow,

You lead us on a path filled with Light,

And our life in the Spirit does grow.

TO ST. THERESE OF LISIEUX

My sweet Little Flower,   

your humble acts of charity   

are like tiny grains of sand,    

yet when they’re poured out    

upon the fruitful fields of Heaven    

by the Father’s faithful fingers,    

they form a mountain of love    

that would gracefully tower    

over the mighty Everest;    

you stand in great strength,    

as the missionary of missionaries,    

in the gentle presence of    

the Virgin of virgins,    

the Mystical Rose    

of incomparable beauty,    

and your precious seeds of prayer    

are cultivated with care by the    

ever patient Divine Gardener,    

nourished by His living water,    

producing a bountiful harvest of    

salvation in our suffering world;    

above the clouds of worry,    

your cheerful sky is always blue --    

help me to follow your example    

so that my soul too may sing    

those heartfelt words of wisdom:    

“My vocation is love!”

TO ST. SIMON THE APOSTLE

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.

TO ST. MATTHIAS THE APOSTLE

You were added to the Eleven just a little bit later,

you’re the one who is known for replacing the traitor;

You were a part of the mission of the seventy-two,

and you saw how Jesus’ power made all things new;

On Pentecost you received the promised Paraclete,

and heard the first papal speech of good old St. Pete;

You mortified your flesh to kill your desire,

coupled with virtue, it helped put out the fire;

As a martyr, you were stoned in the year 80 A.D.,

now surrounded by Love, you’re finally free.

TO ST. ANNE

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?

TO ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST

In humility you

   wear camel’s hair,

And your faith in God

   is extremely rare;

True repentance is

   your counsel for all,

Helping poor sinners

   to avoid a fall;

You detest the cruel

   world’s horrible lies,

For verily you are

   both strong and wise;

Then one day you see

   the holy white Dove,

And know that you

have finally found Love.

TO SAN GIUSEPPE OF COPERTINO

The townspeople all thought 

   you were a total fool,

But the saints agreed 

   you were really a jewel;

Academically you 

   weren’t very smart,

But you loved the Lord 

   from deep down in your heart;

The tough priestly studies 

   made you feel very drained,

Yet by God’s mercy 

   you were finally ordained;

With this the detractors’ gossip 

   finally ceased,

For they saw you 

   as a respectable priest;

The flabbergasted people 

   would just stand and stare:

For dozens of times 

   you levitated in prayer.

TO ST. MARY MAGDALENE

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.

TO ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO

Dear Augustine,

What a wonderful

Example you are

For us sinners;

Although you wasted 

So much time

In your young life,

You finally discovered

The gift of humility and,

In surrender,

You waved the white flag --

An arrogant, filthy rag --

And you gave Him all,

But He gave you

Still more: 

Divine Mercy.