Donna Sue Poetry

HE IS MY PRIEST, ONE OF MY SONS

Posted on by Donna Sue

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“No,” Mom said, “don’t you ever talk about a Catholic Priest.”

You lift them high and pray for them, an Ave at the least!”

“Oh fine.” I muttered to myself and headed for the door.

Our parish priest was such a grump, so harsh, and quite the bore!

Now here it was a Saturday when confessions start at three.

Oh man, I hoped it’d not be him who would be hearing me.

But when in the confessional, his words were kind yet strong.

With compassion, love, and mercy, he absolved me from my wrongs.

With humbled heart and sin free soul my penance I then prayed.

But just as I began to leave, I felt the need to stay.

So I sat down in the shadows, alone there in the church,

When a sudden noise behind me gave my body such a lurch!

My priest had dropped a kneeler, and had knelt on it to pray.

His body bent with burden as his sobbing just gave way!

My parish priest was crying?  So like a child he seemed.

Not the harsh and grumpy man whom I had wrongly deemed.

Just then a light surrounded him, and a shadow I could see.

Was that a man or angel standing there in front of me?

As I peered into the darkness, it all became quite clear,

It was the Lord, my Jesus, who wiped away his tears.

With His hands upon his shoulders, Jesus whispered “Rest”,

And Father sank against His heart, his head upon Christ’s chest.

While Jesus stood behind him, He turned and looked my way.

“This is my Priest, one of my sons, of whom I ask you pray.”

Jesus’ words were barely spoken when He disappeared from sight.

The peaceful look on Father’s  face showed now his burden light.

As Father stood he looked at me; he gave a nod and smiled.

Then as he left I knelt again, to pray for him awhile.

Donna Sue Berry

July 23rd, 2012


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