I am Yours… Soy Tuya… This poem was written in three different moments:

The first part was written on July 2, 1992, in Chile, as I was discerning to renew my vows to religious life in the IHM of the Philadelphia’s branch; I was discerning if it was with them where I could express better who I am in this beautiful vocation.

The second part was written on September 23, 1993, in Peru, during a turning point in my life when I began a long journey searching and discerning God’s will in my life as taking a new direction.

The third part was written on October 31, 2004, while discerning to return to religious life, while sharing with the sisters from the Scranton IHM branch, in my first formal contact with their president. These words speak of the person who I am, and of the Vocation God have given me, and that wishes to be expressed to proclaim at all times God’s love for me. They are at the same time words that describe a Missionary. ALLELUYA! (Probably….To be continued)

Señor…Soy Tuya
(DMS 1992, 1993, 2004)

(I)
Señor…
Soy tu fallita adorada
que a remendones va creciendo.
Soy tu renglón torcido
por donde vas escribiendo.
Y voy creciendo por tus palabras,
poemas y música,
suave y gentil,
que va susurrando mi historia,
mi cuento, mi tiempo y mi canto.

Señor…
Estoy aquí, quebrada al pie de tu altar;
ofrenda en palabras…
en oraciones…
en silencio.
Soy astilla picada del madero que cuelga,
la mirada y los clavos,
los huesos de quienes conocen
el hambre en el alma.

Señor…
Soy tu plato vacío
y tu vaso sin agua,
que calmas
cuando traigo los brazos abiertos,
con humildad y confianza.
Soy tu retazo de tela que abriga la vida
y aviva y calienta el aire del alma.
Dignidad de pobreza
que enriquece la suerte
de un telar que termina la trama;
mantel de tu altar,
y lo haces con calma.

Señor…
Soy tu estrella en el firmamento,
lucero que alumbra
e inspira palabras de aliento;
confirma presencia del astro,
energía de vida;
Fuerza de la que voy tomando.
Soy gota de agua
que fluye en corrientes en busca de mares,
en busca de fuentes que bañen,
que calmen la sed
de un suelo cuarteado, reseco y desierto.

Señor…
Soy tu palabra, parte de frase,
oración que engrandeces.
Soy parte del tiempo, minuto u hora;
infinito en tu mente,
pensamiento de eternidad.
Soy criatura creada
que busca la fuente,
Que calla…
que escucha con suerte el silencio…
palabra no hablada.

Señor…
soy tu rezo,
intento de joven que busca,
te busca,
encuentra y se embriaga.
Soy uva del racimo,
De un vino de sangre.
Soy grano de espiga dorada
de un pan que se rompe en tu altar;
Misionero que lleva
tu presencia de amante.
Soy tu sombra y no el cuerpo,
soy instrumento.
Soy tuya…

DMS Julio 2, 1992

Lord… I Am Yours
(DMS 1992, 1993, 2004)

(I)
Lord…
I am your precious flaw
Growing slowly as I am mended;
I am your bent line
On which you are writing.
And growing because of your words
Poems and music,
Soft and gentle,
That whisper my history,
My time, and my song, my story.

Lord…
I am here, broken at the foot of your altar;
Gift in words…
In prayers…
In silence.
I am a splinter from the wood that hangs,
The glance and nails
The bones of those who know
Hunger in the soul.

Lord…
I am your empty plate
And your glass without water,
Which you calm
When I bring my open arms,
With humility and confidence.
I am a remnant of a fabric that shelters life
And brightens and warms up the soul.
Poverty’s dignity
Which enriches the luck
Of a fabric, and finishes it’s weft;
Cloth of your altar
Which you do calmly.

Lord…
I’m your little star in the firmament,
Morning star that enlightens,
And inspires words of courage; which
Confirms your presence,
Energy of life;
Energy from which I gather strength.
I am a drop of water
Which flows in currents in search of seas,
In search of fountains which bathe, and
drench your forehead;
That quenches the thirst
Of a cracked, dried and barren land.

Lord...
I am your word, part of a phrase,
Sentence that you exalt.
I am part of time, minute or hour;
Infinite in your mind,
Thought of eternity.
I’m creature createded
In search of the fountain,
That quiets…
That listens with luck silence…
Word not spoken.

Lord…
I am your prayer,
Attempt of youth in search,
Searches you.
Finds you, and indulges.
am grape of a racime,
Of a wine of blood.
I am grain of a golden spike
a bread that breaks on your altar;
that brings your presence.
I’m your shadow and not the body,
I’m instrument.
I am yours…

DMS July, 1992

(II)

Señor …
soy ave que surca tu cielo y en este,
con alas abiertas volando recorro
horizontes ocultos e internos.
Y libre en caídas y alturas,
abismos y cimas,
tenemos encuentros profundos
que cargan con fuerza
y refuerzan mis ansias de eternidad,
y recorro tus mundos.
Soy ave en bandada
que canta su nota, y avanza
formando tus nidos de ramas y hojas…
plegarias del hombre que clama;
abrigo y cobija, fortaleza de gracia.

Señor…
Soy pez que en el agua recorre en corrientes
que arrastran con fuerza,
que llevan a mares ocultos al ojo,
abiertos al alma.
Soy sueño que vive en la mente
del joven y adulto
que luchan y despiertan en brazos
que abrazan con fuerza;
que llevan tu ayuda, tu gracia,
y sostienen y animan, reúnen y alaban
la grandeza suprema de un ser que los ama.

Señor…
Soy lo que soy…
y espero tus dedos, tus formas,
tus manos, tu aliento.
Soy criatura, soy creación;
Soy Tuya…

DMS Setiembre 23, 1993

(II)

Lord…
I am a bird that flies your skies and in them,
With open wings flying, I travel through
Hidden and interior horizons.
And free in fallings, heights,
Abyss’, and pinnacles
We have profound encounters
Which fills with strength
And encourage my yearnings for eternity,
And I travel your worlds.
I am a bird in its flock
That sings its note, and advances
Forming your nests with branches and leaves…
Prayers of a man who clamors;
Warmth and shelter, fortress of grace.

Lord…
I am fish that in waters travels in currents
That drag with strength,
And take you to seas hidden to the eye,
Opened to the soul.
I am the dream that resides in the mind
Of the young and the adult,
That fight and wake up in arms
That embrace with strength;
That take your help, your grace,
And sustain and encourage, gather and praise
The supreme grandeur of a Being that loves them.

Lord…
I am what I am…
And I wait for your fingers, your forms,
Your hands, your breath.
I am a creature, I am creation;
Lord, I am yours…

DMS September 23, 1993

(III)
Señor…
Soy tu mirada en el tiempo,
soy tus paisajes del alba
en el corazón abierto que entrega su sangre
en horas tempranas sus llantos,
sonrisas y aliento.

Soy vigilante que clama las voces del alma
en busca de encuentros, de amores,
de entrega docente que enseña
las letras del libro
que escribes cuando nos amas.

Soy tu ternura que abraza el pobre
que busca riquezas eternas
que entregas al hombre humilde y sincero,
ofrenda sagrada de un cielo en el alma.
Soy tuya.

Soy misionero que da testimonio de un Dios
que nos ama y nos cuida,
y llevo a tu mundo confines eternos
con actos heroicos de entrega.
Construye tus muros del reino
y senderos que llevan
la ruta de tus mandamientos,
palabras de un Dios
que perdona y confirma
el amor de un padre que busca a sus hijos.

Me dejo encontrar en tu espacio
y me invaden tus palabras en el silencio
…me dejo llevar en tus corrientes
… tu aliento me envuelve,
me lleno de vida, una vida que entrego,
porque ….soy tuya.

Denise Montagne
Octubre 31, 2004

(III)
Lord…
I am your eyes in time,
I am your sight at dawn
In an opened heart that gives its blood
and at early hours its cries,
Laughter and courage.

I am a guard claming the voices of the soul
In search of encounters, of lovers,
a generous teacher who teaches
The letters of the book
That you write when you love us.

I am your tenderness that embraces the poor
That looks for riches
Which you give to the humble and sincere man,
Sacred offering of heaven in ones soul.
I am yours.

I am a missionary that witnesses a God
Who loves us and protect us,
And takes to your world, worlds of eternity
With heroic acts of gift of self.
Builds the walls of your Kingdom
And paths that take
road of your commandments,
Words of God
Which forgive and confirm
The caring of a father who looks for His sons.

I let myself be found in your space
your words invade me in the silence.
… I let myself be carried by your currents
… your breath involves me,
Filling me with life, a life that I give,
Because I am yours.

Denise Montagne
October 31, 2004

My Fish and Bread

I give my fish and bread,
You bless them and share them
Multiplying my gifts in others.
Gifts of love to build here on earth
God’s Kingdom of Heaven;
Selfless gifts that when shared
With your wisdom and love
Others are fed.

My heart eats from the peaces of bread
Shared by others; broken peaces of love
To bring life to my soul given.
My soul is one in all and we become one
In this act of sharing.
Miraculous act of God
Sacrifice of shared bread at your table.
Broken peaces of life shared every time
That in your name we gather.

These fish and bread You gave first to me
I give back to You in the name of Our Father;
Broken peaces of bread and fish
Served at your table are shared
bringing life, justice, mercy and love
To bring us together.
Selfless gift of self in the braking of this bread
Fulfillment of revealed love
Becomes eternity’s meal, banquet where one serves
And all serve to our loving Father.

Bread for the body and spirit
Strengthens the soul of the gathered.
We ask for our daily bread to be nourished.

By Denise Montagne (September 20, 2005)

I had first prayed these words in my sharing with you in Scranton, and wrote a card to the sisters to thank them for their caring during those days of January 3 to January 9. Today as I was teaching the Beatitudes, I felt these words coming To my heart, and I prayed for all who wants to share God’s love.
I prayed for our sisters in a very special way. For some reason I feel this poem will say more words…
To be continued.

I close my eyes to dream
About your tender love and caring;
I hear your voice whisper to my ears
The many words of wisdom,
I always heard you saying.

I see you next to me with selfless heart
Holding my hands for sharing;
You are praying at my side the Christian values
That helped me become a woman of prayer.
I pray at day and night
Your presence of love sustains me,
As I go now through life remembering
The blessings of your caring.

Today once more is time for us
Of letting go for gaining Heaven.
I’ll learn from this suffering I feel
That growth in hope and faith
Will bring us once again together.
For not being as it used to be,
I put my trust in God and learn this
New way of sharing;
The way we share our days today
Is now through our love in prayer.

I thank you for your love I feel in all my being,
It brings your energy to me
Strengthening with tender caring;
The spirit of your presence so alive
Will give me life while waiting for the time for us
When once again we come together.
I leave you with our loving God
I know today you are in Heaven.

By Denise Montagne 09/23/05

Written for Sister Mary Jo Gallagher as I was praying, These words are meant to touch her heart. I hope they bring God’s presence to her life. When she remembers her dear mother I hope these words bring beautiful memories to share with her love ones. I had my boys pray with me, their eyes expressed piety, I hope she feels today the love of our dear God and Mother Mary.

Pensamiento de Ojota y Estera

Pensamiento tejido de paja
Camina con paso de ojota;
Pensamiento de ojota y estera
que por hambre no espera,
y se le aborta piedras y más piedras.

Y el milagro no ocurre;
pan y peces son recuerdos.
al ojo y al gusto,
lejanos y ocultos.
Banquete en una mesa vacía,
se sirve el llanto y se toma el sabor amargo

Mirada perdida, angustia apretada…
Se aprietan las manos, los pasos se callan,
Las fuerzas…no hay fuerzas.
Para el que es pobre aún no ha existido
la mesa banquete de aplausos.
Y come tierra seca que el viento levanta
por falta de agua.
Pensamiento de ojota y estera,

Callado en la espera, se pierde en el tiempo
que muere por hambre
y que por hambre no hay fuerza….
se acalla y se entierra.

Denise Montagne Suero 6 de Julio 1992

Thought weaved with straw
Walks with the step of a fisherman’s sandals;
made out of straw and sandals
of hunger can’t wait,
And aborts stones and more stones.

The miracle doesn’t take place;
Bread and fish are just memories
To the eye and taste,
far and hidden.
In a banquet with an empty table,
Tears are served and a bitter drink is drunk.

Lost gaze, tight anguish…
The hands get tighten, and the steps get silenced,
Strength…there’s no strength.
For who is poor there hasn’t yet been
A banquet of praise.
And eats the dry land that the wind blows
For lack of water.
Thought made out of straw and sandals.

Quiet in the waiting, gets lost in time
that dies for hunger
and for hunger there’s no strength…
Is silenced and buried.

Denise Montagne July 6, 1992