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A Sonnet to Past Vigils KeptBefore the hammer strikes the bell, I blink
and yes, the clock does call, so out of place in dreams no less than night. Though tired I peek to read the lines upon its sickly face of green that swells beyond its frame to mill about my cell. "Obey the voice of God," a thought does nag as I the angel still. (Its head but slapped to end its noisy prod.) But soon I wore a tunic black as sheep, so fitting, belt about and scapular. From hall to stairs and church beyond, I keep the vows. I free the doors. I greet the dark. In time the stalls will fill with song and psalm to beckon light divine before the dawn. + By John Rieping |
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