CHALK

Poem for Today - April 22, 2014

A SICK POET

PRAYS TO HIS GOD

O God,
I am content to be
Thy little piece of chalk.
(So small and white and thin).
Write thou with me
How men should walk --
And if betimes
'neath the pressure of thy hand
I squeak and squeal a bit
In shrill complaint
Bear down the harder
Lord
And write with me
Until I crumble into dust.
But do not (no, Lord, no)
Wash Thy hands of me
(White powder on They fingertips)
But let me unto Thee
adoring Thee
for all eternity.
Amen.

(c) Frater Joseph Manton CSSR
around 1913

First Dogma, Mt. St. Alphonsus

Esopus, New York