Part 2: End of Suffering
Dreams, harsh realities blending into waking
Days and weeks, I, Sister Muriel, questioned
Why those with greatest needs, peasant farmers,
Fishing families, suffer at hands of those with
Ample food, clothing, warming winter fires.
Upon life’s desolate shores, lonely, unwanted,
Unloved endure greatest suffering, wandering-
Abandoned. “Stranger, come in from cold rain,”
Neath leaden skies, words I live by. Whilst, we
Have lost paradise, we have each other, rivers
Flowing, last crust of bread, sip of soup, charity
In Christ’s name, I freely give.
By unselfish deeds, I am strengthened, yoke
Of the Lord, each act of kindness, seeds of
Love spread across Irish countryside. Thus
Are my dreams, orthodoxy, end of suffering,
Divine testament reflected in bright eyes of
Children, clean faces, food upon my table,
Hearth fires. O! Spiritual journey! How winter
Makes travel impossible, drifting snow, trails
And paths covered, awakened by cries, trackless
Wilderness. Can prayers alone allay famine pains?
Gather round lost and cold, risen Christ is with
Us. By his pierced limbs we are connected.
I cannot let silence rest upon my thoughts
And tongue, message of love, hope, charity,
I spread on spring mornings, snow melting,
Fast-running streams, those surviving long
Winters of illness and hunger, welcoming
Rising sun, life returns, fields plowed, nets
Mended, boats repaired, suffering, sadness
Falling away, for I never lost faith. Those I
Serve are pillars of rural ministry. Knowing
Realization, my heart and soul are full,
I write this prayerful verse, vessel divine,
Repository of charity and healing.
Thanks for reading second of three parts.