Poetry

The Quilt

I feel like I have finally found a home.

I have many brothers and sisters!

We are like pieces of cloth,

Discarded in an old attic.

Someone has finally found us!

As the dust and cobwebs are brushed away,

The beauty of each piece of cloth is admired.

Our voices for so long been silenced

are finally being heard.

Gradually our pieces of cloth take shape

into a tapestry of beautiful colors.

We are no longer alone!

We are sexual abuse survivors!

What do you see?

After a While You Learn

After a while you learn
The subtle difference between
Holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t always mean security.

And you begin to learn
That kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes ahead
With the grace of a woman
Not the grief of a child

And you learn
To build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is
Too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way
Of falling down in mid flight

After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much
So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers

And you learn
That you really can endure
That you are really strong
And you really do have worth

A Beacon of Hope

As I drift through the sea of life,
having my hull smashed and gushing,
as I ponder my peril,
I see a Beacon of Hope.

Shining in the distance,
through the darkness of night,
I don’t know if I will make it to safe harbor.
And as I hang on to what’s left of my vessel,
I see a Beacon of Hope.

As the sea begins to swell and
the unknown is all about,
I long for the time when I was sure of safe passage.

As pedophile reefs, hidden from sight,
ripped out my aft; I thought I would drown.
I looked to the builders for solace and assurance,
but found malice and malaise.

Then out of nowhere, came God’s gentle voice.
He said He loved me and invited me to a special place.
The monks of Gethsemani offered their home
to share their peace and quiet and holy site.
I came to the Beacon of Hope.

For the first time, in a long time,
I felt welcome in God’s home.
Stripped of pomp and ceremony,
gone was the hypocrisy and arrogance.
Through silence … I could hear.

The Rules of Saint Benedict are still followed to this day
that all guests represent Christ and have a claim
on the welcome and care of the community.
The Beacon shines far and wide
and is powered by the Light of the World.

-Cal Pfeiffer