Epiphany
A Poem | Kathryn Kirby
I have read that great saints like Thérèse made
their hearts ready as beautiful rooms to
receive Thee well at Mass. Were You not laid
in a manger, though, Lord? Crude feed box, few
warm comforts at Your birth? Such's my poor heart.
Forgive me today for my prickly-straw
thoughts, ill-humored barbs; distractions which dart
amid decaying attentiveness; awe
stenched by worldly cares. Ought I receive Thee,
Jesus, dear, and so bruise Thy tender Skin?
O Good Jesus! Soft You settle in me.
From Mary’s womb You willed to dwell within
me. O, immersing Mercy! Foul fodder turns fragrant yield;
Splintered, stony crib to tabernacle, heart of flesh. Healed.
Kathryn Kirby and her family have been parishioners at St John the Evangelist, Severna Park, since 1999. After a 35-year dry spell, God has inspired her this past year to write mostly-only sonnets, she knows not why.
Beautiful!