3 Beautiful Poems by Priest Chaplain Mary Sue Barnett ARCWP

Priest Chaplain Mary Sue Barnett ARCWP

The Grand Cathedral

While sleeping

just before sunrise

I say,

“Come on up little girl.”

And there she is,

instantly rising from my depths,

cheek-to-cheek with me in the light.

Together, robed in white,

we walk as one,

silently, inconspicuously

through the grand cathedral.

To this one who says,

“I am depressed,”

I give bread.

To another who says,

“I am lost,”

I anoint with oil.

To she who says,

“I have no hope,”

I bless with words.

To he who says,

“I am numb,”

I breathe Presence into the pain.

To each one

the little girl assures,

“You are beautiful,

You are worthy,

You will heal in Divine Love.”

Together, robed in white,

we walk as one in joy

through the grand cathedral

where healing is more beautiful

than the sun, excelling

every constellation of the stars.

Walking Inside The Divine

Now I know

I have always

held the keys

straight from heaven

for every beckoning

door on this

cold and lovely earth.

To walk the

corridors of suffering

is a stroll

inside the Divine

I have always

held the keys

to be so free.

With each and

every door

that I swing open

Christ appears

ever unique

everyday a new

face and a new cry.

I walk

the intimate maze

of human sorrow

listening to each

flash of heaven, human beings

their tears

on wise

anguished faces.

As I arrive

with humble

bread and cup

to share a

meal of love

and tenderness

I see that

we are

the Presence

as told by

the tears

on their wise

anguished faces.

I have always

held the keys

to be so free.

A Chaplain’s Epiphany

At the table

he says

to me

“I am

hopeless”

From my sea

of silence

I see his

downcast face

From my deep well

of quiet

I see his

tortured mind

From my wide sky

of peace

I see his

heavy soul

From my river

of repose

I see his

mournful heart

Then as if

breaking from

my chest wall

my fleshy heart

stands upon the

table and speaks

“Hope is like

a little light

always there

if even covered

by the night

whether you see

it or not

and it says

‘come to me’

and never

ever stops

saying

‘come to me’

At the table

my exposed heart

greets his

suffering soul

so little

it all is

so fleeting

and

inconsequential—

Raw

embodied

quiet

and golden

this is

the hope that

is the whole

of me

Our encounter I

place in the

gentle light

of the mystery

of the Epiphany

that says

again today

‘come to me’