Benedict’s Daughter
Poems
Philip C. Kolin
Benedict’s Daughter
Poems
Copyright © 2017 Philip C. Kolin. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.
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paperback isbn: 978-1-5326-1147-6
hardcover isbn: 978-1-5326-1149-0
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Manufactured in the U.S.A. March 6, 2017
for Margie and Al
I decided after investigating everything carefully from the very first to write an orderly account for you, Theophilus, so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed.
luke 1:3
He should know that whoever undertakes the government of souls must prepare himself to account for them.
st. benedict, holy rule
What we love we shall grow to resemble.
st. bernard of clairvaux
Humanity, take a good look at yourself. To one side you’ve got heaven and earth, and all creation. You’re a world—everything is hidden in you.
st. hildegard of bingen
Acknowledgments
My thanks go to the following journals where some of these poems originally appeared:
Introduction
These poems tell the story of a remarkable woman of faith, a spiritual director for over 50 years who lived her life according to St. Benedict’s Holy Rule. Interspersed with poems about her and her family are those that focus directly on Benedictine spiritual traditions, liturgies, saints, and abbeys.
part 1
Lauds
Day Opens
The book of day opens with
the papery feel of dew on azure;
sun shafts sign the distant hilltops
overlooking the abbey
with heaven’s new covenant.
It’s time to shake off
the mortality of sleep;
the tomb of night is cracked, step out
and feel the infinity of light.
Dawn has resurrected the world
from the denial of darkness.
The air is inscribed with Gospels
calling us to be a part of forever:
the Angelus and Mass bells,
the canticles of rivers and oceans,
and the blessings of soft-voiced breezes—
all ring souls with delight.
God fills daybreak with himself.
Terce
St. Peter on the Eternity of Three
Everything I learned about eternity unfolded
in threes. Mary told me about the Magi
and about losing him in the temple
then finding him three days later.
James, John, but I saw her glorified son
transfigured on that holy mountain top.
Coming down, we wiped the dazzle
from our eyes; and for three years
it spread like lilies across the fields.
Then came Gethsemane
and the blood tears he shed
turning stones opalescent red.
That night the high priest’s courtyard
felt as cold as my tongue; I denied him
the three times the cock crowed.
I froze at the third hour
when unctuous Pilate
sentenced him to die.
I could not watch those three crosses
standing stark on that hill
or bear to see the temple veil
ripping apart. The darkness
that followed his death
stole three hours’ light from the sky.
The third day the women,
Salome, Joanna, Magdela,
ran back from the tomb with earth-
shaking news that he had risen,
the stone rolled away,
and his burial linens lay limp
on the floor.
On
