Talisman

There is something about having it in my hand.

This talisman of holiness.

Prayer and respect.

The beads and the words flow under my fingers and from my lips just as easily as they did when I was a child.  

Hail Mary Full of Grace

The Lord is With Thee

I just find this peace, that I know that I never felt as a child.  But the comfort of familiarity is so blindingly warm that I can't find my way out of it.  I lay in bed an commune with nothing.  I have a delicate intimate moment with wooden beads and ancient words, and I feel the lids of my eyes closing.  And sleep envelops me.  And for once it is so easy.

There is something about having it in hand

Taking this scrap of cloth that smells like longing.

This talisman of love far removed.

I hunt the scent of it hoping that it will never dissipate knowing full well that it well.

Blessed Art Thou Amongst Women

When she isn't by my side I miss her.  And right now she can't be.  So I have these scraps and pieces of her.  Little reminders, little hopes, that soon, she will be back in my arms.

There is something about having it in hand.

This book, this word, that I had ignored for so long.

And Blessed is the Fruit of Thy Womb Jesus

Holy Mary Mother of God

Pray For Us Sinners

And reading through it in a new way, with new eyes that lead me to believe that I have been wrong about what simple faith really is for so long.    Now I see that the framework and the structure that I had imposed on myself for my life was very wrong.  It feels so good to be free.

There is something about having it in hand.

Steel blades.  Cool to the touch.

Now And In The Hour Of Our Death

Amen.

Sometimes I miss your sting.

Sometimes.

File under both.