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!

Holy Monday

Isa 42:3

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,