Sr. Patricia O'Brien's Poetry

 

Sr Pat O'BrienLord of the Hands

Lord of the Hands,
Please understand
And keep Jeanne’s
Wrapped in bands of grace
In her gesturing.
Lord of the Hands,
Rift lonesomeness
And clasp Jeanne’s
Filled with sands of love
In more gesturing.
Set her down, Lord,
For her new work
In a far land.
Lord of the Hands,
Take Jeanne’s hands……
I know, Lord,
Still gesturing!


Arrival

White brides come dancing
To the zithering pulse of a pure song ---
The song of purified love,
That is limning a single zephyr-soft rhythm
Heralding all the suffering sonnets
Of an humbly bent woman,
Arriving in blue…..aweless,
With resurrection-glint in her eyes,
Bending…..brightening…..beaming
To her Beloved’s Holy Face
Smiling her into gammas of grace!


Night Prayer

Our Lady, Clothed in contemplation, bent
         Lovingly as one lonely rabbit rent
         Longed silence…Hymning his sole homage
Fervently to the Mother of us all…
         Before darkness enveloped her face
         And night stole Our Lady of Grace.                                                                (Renovation)


Being

The stillness of the lily pads
         Hushed my breathing and
The ache of having to move.
I have seldom known such lingering.
As the silence anchored me there
         On the open gracious green plot
Full of the fritting of nature,
I had to touch and hold in such longing,
Feeling it was eons ago
         That I gave Him me…
Only knowing it as He
Who for so long gave me.                                                                   (From Renovation – Later)


Lost

Walking the night prowler’s heaven,
Blackness trammels round in quiet,
In adoration---and there is sky and sky,
With deftnessI have known night--- a warm thing!
With clarity I have known nothingness--- I do not sing!
For singing would plunder the stillness, the loss,
And soon, this too would pass
Into my very own blackness--- and there die and die…


Visitation

Herald of the Hebron Hills!
Hooded in God’s calmest calm,
Arise. Make haste; one humble psalm
Armours pure Love, undaunting will.
‘Tis the morning of Mary’s song!
To share the fitting favor so long
Unspoken; errand of first relief
Urging blessing and fearless belief.
Let the salutation sound! Sanctifying
His loving little leaping witness.
Lilting the loud cry; to us resounding,
Hastening her steps to kinswoman in distress.
Heart! oh home, dear homing heart!
Sinless! dear Mary, our battle song     
         Be increase of Peace!


Reflections At A Green Pool

Dash my yesterdays!
In the waves of a new tide
Of todays…
Todays that refresh my nights
And grapple with my sorrows
For tomorrow…
Can’t you see?
The reflection is the same
Yesterday… today… tomorrow
You move… and the cool pool
Will change your every moment.
Afraid? ...Unsure? … Beaten? …         
         Take one step says the Lord.
And you will Never know the bottom.                                                                        (Renovation)


Free to Fail

A Blessed Touch
         This Freedom thing,
Worth more —
         Than the results of our efforts,
Healing me —
         Before any gesture of help,
Piecing me together
         From brokenness and hurt.
Gifting me with Kara —
         Without needing a cure
And with a growing Spiritual life,
         Which empties me to feel
         My in — ness and depth
Allowing you to come close
         To my goodness…
         And my badness.
For success soddens my sharing
Touches my powerlessness in weakness
Heartily enhancing and wounding me.
         Welcome to my pain —
         And my purity —
         And the puddliness of the pull
For my worth calls forth
         The fellowship of the wounded
           And the broken.


Girl of the Woods

In Bethany…       
         Soon, almost with premonition       
         You knew the wood; stalwart it stood.       
         Lone, yet not in alone-some-ness,       
         You saw the bark, gruesome and dark.      
         …Elizabeth was waiting…
In Bethlehem…        
         Soon, almost with exultation        
         You leave the inn, shouting its sin.        
         Joy, for not on slithered beams do        
         You place your Child, in manger mild.       
         …Shepherds were waiting…
In Nazareth…        
         Soon, almost with expectation        
         You view the shreds, so planed and red.        
         Fear, yet not in abash-full-ness,        
         You store the nails, freezing and pale.        
         …Joseph was waiting…
In Jerusalem…        
         Soon, almost with suffocation        
         You knew the grain, worsening pain.        
         Love, for not in crossed timber do        
         You share His day in grace filled ways.       
         …Worlds were waiting…
Girl of the Woods,
All!
All are waiting…
…for His Resurrection!


Maranatha

Hidden fetal features
Mold the Infant face
In all time
      And space
      In utero,
Until His coming
Ripples the failed weave
Shadowing her limpid eyes,
And the phantasy of faith
Bursts forth
In the wonder
      And grace
      Of the fantasia
He conducts
As she folds the Baby
To her heart.


Hope
2/23/11

Hope is the seed of overflowing love uplifting the soul even to the joy of carrying one’s cross.


The Holy Face
2/25/11

His Face is everywhere: in the smile of an infant; the mischievous eyes of a teasing child; the loving look of a mother for her baby; the proud boastful look of a father; the painful glance of one who is suffering; the sorrowful visage of a grieving widow; the calm look of a peace-filled soul; and the gleam in one’s countenance who has found God. Look at everyone around you carefully and at each one and Jesus will look back at you! Blow him a kiss for all He has done for you.


The Holy Name of Jesus
3/28/11

         Saint Bernardine gave all Christians the legacy of his devotion to the beauty and essence of God’s name. The Scranton Sisters of IHM furthered that intent when grade school started and progressed.
         They taught us that “Everything is done in Jesus’ name,” and “Bow your head at the name of Jesus.” Watchful honor ensued at various separate meaningful prayer times. To this day, I admit that I cannot not do that.
         It’s a way of expressing one’s love in minute detail. After nodding one’s head in prayer, you have quietly sung His glory, Godliness, Gratitude, and Goodness. Then looking up to see the impact of this small intense praise, you receive the gift of His Face.
         And Holy, Holy, Holy is God’s Name!


Longing
5/24/11

We do not have to wait;
God is ever at our gate.
      Our all in all
In all ways — and always!
      —Just open the gate.


Contemplative Companionship
9/14/11

To be alone with God and pray
as one in silence;
To praise and thank Him for
anything
He is doing in us or for us;
To accept whatever is His pleasure
-the cross or consolation;
To grow smaller as He enhances
our spiritual growth;
To dwell prayerfully on his will so
that He may increase and we will decrease;
To ponder on His gifts, graces,
presence, and miracles;
To prostrate before Him and love,
implore, thank and exalt Him; and
To hide in the bosom of the Trinity
now and in eternity.         
                Amen, Alleluia!