Ah, gentle, tender sweet Isabella of mine,
the winter wind blows chill and shrill
yet now one is closer to the summer vine
and gives this silly fool thy cheerful will.
And what of care for woe and human wrack
or of kings and hero's which rise and fall
for one day we will be in the coffin black
except for the greatest death of them all.
Cherubs plucked him down, to keep him up
amid the deaths of a million or more souls
but was time for the heavenly host to sup
while on the fires were heaps of coals.
He died for a million and more of our sons
and wrote a plan in the book of his name
so in dying, rising, did not leave nor run
but Cherubs remind us of our human shame.
But for His death, ours would be a cruel doom,
but on the third day He arose from the grave
and at each mass we share the upper room
and thank Him for the life for us He gave.
Into the cup which we drink, His life bleeds,
and sin will be washed away with His tears
which will vanquish sin and all foul deeds,
because of our confessions He always hears.
We are steeped in ancient tradition and rites
for to each of us His suffering passion brings
the reasons our religion always brings delights
and into the heart hope and compassion springs.
Now in this first year we are no longer consigned
to our folly of sin for in our veins His blood flows
and in Him we become one with body and mind
for each day our love for you and Him only grows.
| Footnote: Our spiritual home is at St. Dominic Catholic Church in Mobile, Alabama. On Easter of 2002 my wife, our daughter Caroline and myself became members of the Catholic faith. Although we have just begun our journey and will soon celebrate our first year . . . So this poem is a humble effort to say in a layman's language, what our faith means to our family and brings a blessing to those who may also be lost and wish to find a way toward kindness, understanding and compassion. |
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