WHEN DEATH COMES

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When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

Mary Oliver

COVENANT

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The Father
knocks at my door,
seeking a home for his son: 

Rent is cheap, I say 

I don’t want to rent. I want to buy, says God. 

I’m not sure I want to sell, 
but you might come in to look around. 

I think I will, says God. 

I might let you have a room or two. 

I like it, says God. I’ll take the two. 
You might decide to give me more some day. 
I can wait, says God. 

I’d like to give you more, 
but it’s a bit difficult. I need some space for me. 

I know, says God, but I’ll wait. I like what I see. 

Hm, maybe I can let you have another room. 
I really don’t need that much. 

Thanks, says God, I’ll take it. I like what I see. 

I’d like to give you the whole house 
But I’m not sure – 

Think on it, says God. I wouldn’t put you out. 
Your house would be mine and my son would live in it. 
You’d have more space than you’d ever had before. 

I don’t understand at all. 

I know, says God, but I can’t tell you about that. 
You’ll have to discover it for yourself. 
That can only happen if you let him have the whole house. 

A bit risky, I say. 

Yes, says God, but try me.

I’m not sure – 
I’ll let you know.

I can wait, says God. I like what I see.

Sr. Margaret Halaska

FOR THE ONE WHO HOLDS POWER

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May the gift of leadership awaken in you as a vocation,
Keep you mindful of the providence that calls you to serve.
As high over the mountains the eagle spreads its wings,
May your perspective be larger than the view from the foothills.

When the way is flat and dull in times of gray endurance,
May your imagination continue to evoke horizons.
When thirst burns in times of drought,
May you be blessed to find the wells.
May you have the wisdom to read time clearly
And know when the seed of change will flourish.

In your heart may there be a sanctuary
For the stillness where clarity is born.
May your work be infused with passion and creativity
And have the wisdom to balance compassion and challenge.

May your soul find the graciousness
To rise above the fester of small mediocrities.
May your power never become a shell
Wherein your heart would silently atrophy.
May you welcome your own vulnerability
As the ground where healing and truth join.

May integrity of soul be your first ideal.
The source that will guide and bless your work.

John O’Donohue