Friday, April 3, 2015

Perfect To Die On This Day

Cross outside Kellenberg High School in Uniondale, NY

April 3, 2015
Day 338

I wrote this poem back when I was a monk, and though I no longer think of Jesus as God, I've always thought of this poem as one of my favorites.  I hope it resonates with you today.

Perfect To Die On This Day

The rain has stopped now
for a while,
but it looms above,
half dark, half light unseen.

The mourning doves coo
with their depressing calls,
and he sits still
watching it all--apart.

"Today's the day,"
he thinks to himself,
"the day for long I'd planned."

The weather is perfect
for a day like today,
perfect to die on this day.

"A perfect day,"
he thinks again,
"for piercing nails
and slicing swords:
swords and nails,
true irony,
made from ore I made.

No clouds, no doves,
no sun can save me
from this my perfect day:
a day so planned, so perfect,
perfect to die on this day."

Sean Patrick Brennan
March 27, 1997

No comments:

Post a Comment