Poetry:
Merton, Thomas
Thomas Merton EOYQ FOR A TRAPPIST (Fr. M. Stephen, O.C.S.O.) Maybe the martytology until today Has found no fitting word to describe you Confessor of exotic roses Martyr of unbelievable...
...Sometimes & little dangerous...
...Commonweal, December 9. 1966...
...And everything was gone As if Leviathan Hot on the scent of some other blood Had passisd you by And never saw you Hiding among the flowers...
...at comers Vainly trying to smuggle Some enormous and perfect bouquet To a side altar In the sleeves of your cowl In the dark before dawn On the day of your burial A big truck with lights Moved like a battle cruiser Toward The gate Past your abandoned and silent garden The brief glare Lit up the grottos, pyramids, and presences One by one Then the gate swung red And clattered shut in the giant lights...
...Maybe the martytology until today Has found no fitting word to describe you Confessor of exotic roses Martyr of unbelievable gardens Whom we will always remember As a tender-hearted careworn Generous unsteady cliff Lurching in the cloister Like a friendly freight train To some uncertain station Master of the sudden enthusiastic gift In an avalanche Of flower catalogues And boundless love...
...Thomas Merton EOYQ FOR A TRAPPIST (Fr...
Vol. 115 • December 1988 • No. 21
