CHRIST IN THE DESERT
MONASTERY MEMORIES

Cyril, the desert cat, blesses us
with his pre-dawn greeting of a rub against our shins,
while monks in black prepare to sing Latin chants
that pierce the soul and rejoin us to our primal faith.
"O Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth shall proclaim your praise."

Brother Pietro stifles a yawn,
while Brother Basil stays in bed.
"Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa."

Dawn breaks as Father Joseph firmly grasps our head
to bestow a sacred blessing.
We kneel to pray and spy the stalwart tree where God dwells,
growing from its craggy striped cliff.
Incense lifts our prayers to the
dry desert sky of undiluted blue.
"O God, come to my assistance.
O lord, make haste to help me."

Dusty whirls from southern siroccos,
stir wild plants regally wearing their gold and purple blooms.
Scampering beetles,
stealthy chameleons
and slithering snakes
abound in this ancient lifeless place.
A silence so deep you hear the wind before you feel it,
while the sun gently caresses your skin.
A short walk brings us to a sparkling stream
that rushes to impale itself on scattered rocks,
late for its final destination.

Guests and monks form easy community.
A nod, a smile, a gesture
resound in this bare place
as hearts fill anew
with timeless peace and love.
"I will lie down and sleep peacefully,
for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety."