Tuesday, February 08, 2005
"In deep winter he continues his work of suffering, in full view, so that the world can know this aspect of God."
I was moved to write this sonnet:
The Pope in Infirmity
In bygone times the Pope could be a man
With vigor still, whom age had not yet bowed,
Pursuing ardors less basilican,
Of schemes and wars and other furrows ploughed.
Today the cardinals choose their Father from
Their own decrepit ranks; an aged priest,
The Holy Father to his throne will come
A man betimes already half-deceased.
And thus pressed down by burden of his years
And trials of spirit and the body's pains
The Church's Father takes his yoke of tears
And Christian labor, and his flock sustains,
'Til salving Death shall come to Peter's dome
And there an old man gently carry home.
© 2005 Jeffrey Hull