Flowers in the Desert: Cloistered Nuns in the Garden of God

What would you have with us, O Son of God?

Must we enter maimed and blind and lame

Into that kingdom that you call good news?

Must we forsake all that we hold so dear,

Tread underfoot the love of kith and kin

To venture far into a land unknown
by night in naked faith?

Why did you choose
the uphill road

Whose only end is death in bitter loneliness?

Was there no other way
for us who are but mortals, made

Of flesh and blood, with fallen hearts
 
That need to breath a lesser air than heaven's heights?

There sounds no answer —

Only arms outstretched
in silent helplessness — upon a tree

And hands, which humbly break the wounded Bread

Hold out a cup like rich red wine.
 

Poem by
a Cloistered Poor Clare Colettine Nun

St. Bernadette of Lourdes