The Green Bench

Here you sit

enduring elements of the seasons—

wind, sun, rain and snow

your paint is peeling and birds use you

for roost and more

Lying on my back on your old weathered slats

the most amazing art takes form—blue sky

between green wood

You have no heart, no soul, no brain

but still you kindly offer respite

to weeping sinners and struggling saints

and maybe even an old Jesuit priest

has taken rest on your sturdy seat

You remain where you were placed

doing the work you were made for

bearing the scars and wounds of age and element

until some kind soul or gardener

revives you with fresh paint

or takes you to another place for kindling and scrap metal

Thank you for this most excellent service

you have provided me today.

9/09 Jesuit Center

I'm on my way to the Jesuit Center yet again. Monday I'll begin a 4-day writer's retreat with Paula D'Arcy, a gift from my friend, Lisa Mullen. As my thoughts center on this most beloved place, I remembered this poem I had written several years ago, and I wanted to get it into my blog because it reminds me of what I so treasure about the monastery--the simple things that hold such meaning year after year.