This is an older work published the 2000-2001 edition of The Cauldron, the literary magazine of Kalamazoo College.
First sorrowful mystery–
He rolled the beads of his rosary
between his index finger and thumb,
he sung oh sauna and swayed
gently on his knees,
he moved his arthritic wrist
letting it crack, he watched the
candlelight flicker against
Jesus on the wall,
it was number two in a sequence,
the joyful mystery whispered
between ten Hail Marys,
that prayer to papa dios
and the oh my Jesus
and the glory be
and the sound his
shoes made as they touched
and I can hear him move to
the glorious mystery
and I can smell the wax
from the candle set on
Great Uncle Wilfred’s
coffin cross and I watched
in awe as the secrets of the
universe unraveled in the sweet
poetry of the cardinals and saints
and I smelled his shoe polish
underscore the religious ecstasy
with discipline–
Saint Anthony, Saint Theresa Little
Flower, Saint Anne, Saint Margaret
Mary, Saint Paul, Saint Peter, Saints
James the Greater and Lesser, Saint
Augustine, Saint Bernard, Saint Francis
of Assisi, Padre Pio with his stigmata,
Our Lady of Guadeloupe, Our Lady of
Lourdes, Our Lady of Fatima, Our Lady
of Sorrows,
staring down at me
as I had my identity scrutinized,
as I was told what it meant to be a
Catholic man,
as I was told what I was not,
as my bliss was taken from me–
Sorrowful Mystery.