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| 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
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