By: Jason Songe, Seminarian, Archdiocese of New Orleans
This poem is about the incalculable profit of Adoration. It concerns control, frustration, and the cultivation of trust.
A PUZZLE FOR THE SON
I sent my rushed prayer up
To the Sacrament from my knees,
Circled with frenzied vibrations.
Pricked and jumpy,
The result of a shaky phlebotomist,
I birthed the letters while fogged—
At a diagonal.
Some were far too swift.
Rear-ending the letter ahead.
Forcing them to mesh.
Like indented flesh
in an overcrowded pew.
(But without the silent sorrys)
The Sacrament knew I was bent.
I couldn’t discern
I had no time to yield my energy
To quest a thing uncomfortable
Submitting to my senses.
It was all I could do to suggest my puzzle.
A large human hand descended from the Sacrament.
It became more imminent.
It absorbed the manhandled words
Until it rested on my head
Like a blessing.
He said, “Peace.”
And so it was.
The syncopated oscillations stopped.
Everything went linear
And I recalled how many times
I’ve felt this
Only to abandon Him too soon.
Like people do with those fluorescent flags,
I did my best to bookmark the moment.
“Lord, stay with me as I stay with you.”
About the Author: Jason Songe, Seminarian, Archdiocese of New Orleans
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