Perspective

<!–
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-size:10.0pt;
mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}

–>

It was a weekday Mass, and we were spread
Pretty thin. You know, one to a pew
Or maybe two.
The Our Father came, time to hold hands
And the elderly Korean lady in front of me reached
Out to her left to her equally ancient friend
And grasped her hand. Then reached back to the right
Towards me, and left her hand outstretched.
I took it.
We never held hands at Our Lady of Good Counsel.
Father was old school and did not approve.
But I could not help but notice that in reaching
And stretching herself for her neighbor, left and right,
She shaped herself into a cross.

2 Comments

What do you think? Join the discussion.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s