At Merton's Gethsemani Monastery

At Merton's Gethsemani Monastery

    Trappist, Kentucky

Pray for us, Thomas Merton,

who’ve come for consolation.

Pray for those who rise with the bell 

at 3 a.m. to touch the incorporeal, 

who enter heaven’s silence

and wonder if they’ve heard things right.

Pray for the farmer driving holy rolls 

of Cistercian hay to pay the bills.  

Pray for monks pouring good bourbon 

into fruitcake and fudge to sell.  

Pray for the cheesemakers 

filling molds with fresh milk.

Pray for those who study mysteries 

they can never clearly explain.

Pray for the comely lass at Vespers

who distracts from Gregorian chant.

And pray for me, 

a Protestant in Catholic’s clothing, 

who meditates under the ginkgo tree

where the Dalai Lama once sat,

who bows at the right time, 

kneels with the wrong knee, 

almost remembers to cross himself

when passing by the sacred Host. 

Pray for us—the confused and fakes, 

the spectacular failures and saints.  

Ratchet up our screw-loose hearts.

Orphans at your gate.

first published in Liturgical Credo

*

My essay "Tinkering with Grief in the Woods," about spending a week at Gethsemani Monastery while dealing with grief, was published by Literal Latte: https://www.literal-latte.com/2012/09/tinkering-with-grief-in-the-woods/