Enjoy this poem written just this week by Sara Silberger, a young New York mom, poet, and convert who will celebrate her first anniversary of entering the Church this week. May you and your family have a blessed Holy Week and Easter season, Sara!
The next day I came as usual
to my quiet church, the early light
made bluer through the windows.
The split tips of palms lay scattered in the pews,
on the floor below our knees, browning,
thin as hairs, in spirals. When I left I knew
the pious men at my back would
cup their hands behind the candles
walk the pews and under the pews
and clear out yesterday’s ruin. This is how
peace works. This doorway once
was painted in blood; this valley covered in bones.
If I have asked for the heart of this woman
who labors in the empty church, sweeping diligently
as the blue light rises and turns gold--
if I have received this, and have suffered,
it is not for lack of understanding.