Friday, September 19, 2008
Sister Karmelita Borg.
Sister Karmelita Borg sits in a Church.
She says nothing. I sit beside her,
She fingers her rosary beads,
in a rigid pinched gesture.
far removed from the world,
mourning the merciless voice of God.
Like the memory of infinite childhoods
righteously scraped and deplored
against a religious sentence
quickly hushed into silence.
But all I hear is the faint echo
of her sharp whispers moving off
the vast cathedral walls.
A cathedral so indebted it can ill afford
the concrete imitatio of Christ.