Prayers & Poems

This collection includes prayers and poems from the early days to the present.


Mama

by Sr. Kay McMullen, SND

My mother comes back from her errands up on the Avenue.
She is wearing her favorite dress. It has soft blue and white stripes
and the full pleated skirt swings as she walks. She is very pretty.

OldSkatesbyNedra

Old Skates by Nedra.

I’m roller skating up and down our street under the hawthorn trees and my skate key dangles on a dirty string around my neck.
My new yellow shorts are a little big for me and there are bandaids on both knees. I’ve lost the red ribbon from one of my braids.

Mama plays with the braid while she tells me about the green and blue plaid she just saw up at the fabric store.
There is a pattern, too, for mother-daughter dresses. Would I like that?
The next week when she has enough money
we both go up on the Avenue and buy our new plaid.
Miss Anita gives me a bag of scraps. Each colorful piece
is plenty big enough to make a new doll dress.

I want to hurry home and get to work, but first
we have to go to the dime store and the supermarket.
Then she gets coffee at Ozzie’s and I get an ice cream cone
while we wait for Mr. Beretta to fill grandma’s prescription.

I lick my ice cream wishing Mr. Beretta into a hurry
while Mama talks to Ozzie and Marian who sells the cosmetics
and the lady from the library who has the day off.
She’s having coffee too. I have library books at home still
so at least we don’t need to stop there today.

I want us to hurry so I can get going on the new dresses
that my dolls really need and Mama can lay out the pattern
and get going on our twin dresses. Something in me
can hardly wait to be just like her. She is so beautiful.


Mark 16

by Sr. Kay McMullen, SND

Go and tell them. Go out into Galilee.
Gamble everything for love.
Die. Break open. If you are to find God
you must stop holding on.

You are meant to fly out your window
into the soft green trees, drift
like a newlings feather down into
the sharp scented yellow blossoms.

You are meant to convene with the stars and
dance in the sunrise of resurrection mornings.
Go. Gamble everything.
For love.


John The Announcer (John 1:23)

by Sr. Mary Dominica McNamee, SND

Who are you then?

I am that voice

Listen

The elms are full
with young spring whispers

Lying along the wind
the willow’s word
is a soft advent
that is my word of Him

from the great rocks
my voice comes back to me
strong with His name
striding the breeze

Listen and hear