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Boston Catholic Journal - Critical Catholic Commentary in the Twilight of Reason




Catholic Poems in Passing

A Collection



A Gathering Silence

There is a gathering silence
A whisper in the wind
The earth ceases too tremble at our feet
for a deeper brooding
In the deepest recess of the loss of being
That cannot un-be,
And would that it had never been.

A gathering silence
In a gathered breath of all being
Fraught with nameless expectation
Stirring in the leafless trees,
The deepest ember in a dying fire
Of all that was and which can never be
Again as once it was before.

A gathering silence in the hearts of men
Unknowing of Who cannot be known
But cannot not now come to be
Deepest secret, hidden longing, fire!
Hearts of childrened women
trembling at this hearth
of hidden Love consuming every heart!

A gathering silence on the spangled plain
Of earth that breasts on Heaven's face;
The silence before the bursting choir,
Breath abated under unseen wings
Stilled creation on the brink of birth
Ancient Promise binding sky and earth!
To break the sleeping scandal of the tomb

In that holy scandal of the Virgin’s womb!

A Nun


Made in God’s Image

Made in God’s image?
Yes we all are.
So when people have abortions,
They’ve gone way too far.

They don’t know who they're killing,
An angel from above
In the form of an innocent child,
 As peaceful as a dove.

The baby still rests, peacefully in its mother's womb,
Not knowing it’s cradle will soon be a tomb.
It won’t be able to see all of the world’s features,
His people, His landmarks, and all of His creatures.

It's such a horrible thing to think of,
A mother having an abortion
Killing their own creature,
They must have a mental distortion.

Made in God’s image?
Yes we all are.
So when people have abortions,
They’ve gone way too far.


Gabrielle delGatto,
age 14

December 14, 2004

St. Agnes


Warfare in the Night

like Spears
Stabbing through the night,
wounds not closed
seep memory's dried tears
anew upon the heart.
Feeble fingers
of the mind
grope and touch
the dark ....
A band of panic
ties its knot.


Fears (a reprise)

like Spears
brandish and taunt
pacing through nocturnal hours
Footsteps of evil.
Deep within a distant breath
begins to call,
At first, it is
but a fleeting gasp
and then a trembling sigh,
“Do not be afraid, it is I”
An invasion of peace!
followed, quickly
by sleep’s sweet release,
Battle is done.

And with the waking morn?
Laid as by an invisible hand
across the gently
heaving breast
The pure white sword
The Spirit!

A Nun



A Gift of Roses

You look kindly
On my weakness
As I cried
“I can’t go on!”
(Shaken by storms
And Jesus asleep
In His little boat)

For the timid soul
You had taken
Under your wing.

He knew
It was not the time
For dark, empty nights;
Let you shower my day
With half-expected answers
To wistful prayers.

Blessings fragrant as roses
And within each bloom
I met the face
Oh His tenderness.
Understood how He listens.


In every circumstance.

Never ignoring
Or forgetting
But perfecting
His plans for me.

He has won my heart,
Captured it long ago…

Yet I shrink
From the furnace
Of His love,
Need you at my side:
Sister, teacher, friend,
Urging faithfulness
To your way and His,
Encouraging me to trust
When I doubt his nearness.

Especially then,
When He stays
Your hand;

Asks you to wait
Before you strew
More petals.


Sheila Jacob


 Sweet Sacrament

As I sit here
(Silent, still)
I realise
I am smiling:
Have been smiling
Ten minutes or more,
Head on one side.
Enrapt in the One
Who beams back at me
With such ferocious love,
Drenches me
In soft-silver light
Brighter than this
Early May sun.

Understanding my sadness
And consoling me.
Knowing my sinfulness
And forgiving me,
Restoring me to the hub
Of my heart’s desire.

You are taken
From the monstrance.
It is time for Mass.

I am a candle
In a jar,
A lantern
In a window
Ablaze with joy
Throughout the Holy Sacrifice.

And as I kneel here,
(Silent, still)
The sacred host
Dissolving on my tongue
I realise I am blessed
With the gift
Of your love
And its Giver.


Sheila Jacob




Only in you
Am I finding myself.

Learning why shadows
Of my past
Are the sins
You show me now.

Thoughts I never examined,
Actions I never controlled

Day by day
I confront my wrongdoing
Yet you never punish:
Free me, instead,
From fruitless guilt;
Coax my heart loose
From its burden
Of self-pity.

Hour by hour
You restore
My broken vision
Then bring me
Before a mirror
That does not
Reveal my face
But reflects the beauty
Of your own,

Your dear tired eyes
Half-blind with love
As you hang there


Sheila Jacob



Of Sparrows and Soldiers

Not one sparrow falls to the ground without HIS knowledge ...

For those who braved the storms of evil

for those fallen when the wood was green,

for those never recalled or found ...

Oh Lord thou knowest ...

breath upon these slain that they may live in Thee!


A Cloistered Nun



Boston Catholic Journal

Totally Faithful to the Sacred Deposit of Faith entrusted to the Holy See in Rome

Scio opera tua ... quia modicum habes virtutem, et servasti verbum Meum, nec non negasti Nomen Meum 
I know your works ... that you have but little power, and yet you have kept My word, and have not denied My Name. (Apocalypse 3.8)


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