Church Time

every Sunday when prayers

were said in church, the music

sounded, the barrio streets were

thought distant, people got down

on their knees reciting stories to

the crucifix on the wall behind

the aging altar. light is never

spent in the dark, the eternally

gone loved and people living

with quiet dignity did the best

they could living the simplicity of

love to near heaven. in the Spanish

speaking sanctuary those who

are weary belong and like the

sugarcane cutters and coffee

pickers they slice...

Redeemed

there is something to be

said about the tender life

in this village that handled

time like it waited for it to

be lost. Spring is beautiful

here where the elderly wait

for a piece of heaven to fall

from the sky, hours expand

with children playing on the

street and sadness drops like

leaves from trees. there are

living beside the sparkling

lake campesinos who wake

in the morning to make their

way to fields where they toil

the day long thinking about

days when no stone will be

silent on their...

Saints

I am sitting in the garden
with a statue of Saint Francis

and the Sacred Mother and
pieces of heaven are being

marshaled by squirrels and
colorful birds bouncing on

grass. for a few moments
split from a troubled world

I live in the luxurious silence
of peace and I offer thanks

to the mystery that matched
me with this spell. I think of

modern Saints like Romero
and confess they have not

washed the world clean but
almost imperceptibly days

of sin have changed in the
villages of a country named

for...