More Poems
B. E. Scott
(These have previously appeared
in the Catholic weekly, The Wanderer,
and are used here with permission)
The Soul of a Saint
The soul of a saint, they say,
is liquid
Like a pond or silvery lake
calm, so pellucid
Feeling upon its watery skin
each finger of the wind
Long before the shores, you know,
if at all
have a clue.
Lento
( A Thought for Lent)
I am Simon the Cyrenean and, yes,
It was I who helped with the Cross
Affording me two thousand years of
questionable fame
For that simple deed I was obliged to do
So there's little here I can say for myself
Except for this: it took me a long, long time
Just as I imagine it is taking you
To at last understand, on that Via Crucis,
Who has been carrying whose cross.
Whom Do You Seek?
Whom do you seek? he asked them.
Jesus, the Nazorean, they said.
I am he, he said.
I am he who made you,
fashioned you splendidly from the
Father’s will
I am he whom you have always sought
in the hidden, silent, unseen depths of
your heart
I am he whom you betray with false love
I am he whom you deny times beyond
counting
I am he for whom you cry, “Crucify him!
Crucify him!"
Whom do you seek? he asked them.
Jesus, the Nazorean, they said.
I am he, he said.
I am he who forgives you, and more,
with my own blood I wash you clean
I am he the Risen One who offers you
new life
I am he who gives you my life
I am he who made you for myself, to be
myself.
Whom do you seek? he asked them.
Jesus, the Nazorean, they said.
I am he.
So Loved The World
“…over five thousand wounds, splinters and
cuts in the holy body of Christ."
--St. Bridget of Sweden
Is it true? Five thousand wounds
Each tear of flesh
A million souls perhaps?
Even to one alone this gift
So eager this blood?
With so much shed
So much at stake
Why this perhaps?
Perhaps so?
Perhaps not?
May it not be so for thee or me
This one will say no thanks.
We lay down together as two
And when we were three
Our child would crawl in between us
Just as the Spirit
Making Three
Would have us crawl in too.
Five Reasons For
The Cross
A boy and five smooth stones
A Man and five cruel wounds
A Goliath that needs to be slain
(Is it I, Lord?)
The first one wounds a Head
To speak for us to Justice
The second nails a Hand outstretched
To signal we are Loved
The third a Hand stretched out
To give us Life abundant
The fourth these humble Feet
To draw our steps to Glory
The fifth a Heart lanced open
To receive us back forever now
Into the Father’s Bosom
From whence we fell.
A boy and five smooth stones
A Man and five cruel wounds
A Goliath that needs to be slain
(Is it I, Lord?)
