It's not just that, its everything
the sheer tonage of bricks that hang
unbreathing for fear they snap
and crush what struggling life remains.
Pressure from without, and within
unyielding to my cries of shame.
The desert calls, free expanse
expanse within my heart to be set free
free to sing, sing to thee
and not choke the nauseous fumes of tyranny.
O gutter of false joys, wetting
wings that long to soar above the wires
to rest in nest of lofty eagles' eyries
and find within, in eucharistic hollow deep
where Jesus in my heart doth gently sleep
while storms rage, and tattered sails
torn and shredded as my heart
broken by the tempest and its force
beats with ragged breaths and shortened gasps.
Awake my Jesus, awake, and hold me tight
with wisdom come and fill me with thy might
from thy glorious throne dispatch her forth
like a star that shineth from the north
whose shining rays never shining cease
and lead me in a gentle life of peace.
Nathan O'Halloran, S.J.
Nathan O'Halloran, S.J.
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