Poetic Reflections in Eastertide

Stars for Easter

Listening to the brilliant young physicist on television,
the universe sings to a new music.
The vast pin-point precision of Creation awakens a new awareness.
The intimidating, unwieldy words which fell out of my early catechism,
‘Incarnation’, ‘Transubstantiation’ and 'Resurrection'.
shine bright and new in the light of these primeval stars.
I tentatively test the flavour, perhaps with a better informed palate,
not trying so hard, letting it happen.
Time, I learn, is quiet and still
as we hurtle briefly through it with wide eyes and clutching fingers.

Other worlds spin around us too hot or too cold for Life, no shawl-like atmosphere protects them from sun's scorch and searing wind,
while here the birds sing and the shining dews fall.

Spring always takes us by surprise and the big words which dismayed me once now ring more simply, acquiring a new truth, a new reality,
they are soft and sweet and gently breathing.
First the little mewling baby in a haybox,
then the footprint in the wet sand on the Lake shore.
Night fishing under these self-same stars, ever ancient ever new.

Now come and stand unseen in the shadowed upper room,
your pulsing wrist unshackled by Time
and watch the first, simple, Eucharist, breaking of bread
and breaking of those apprehensive hearts around the table.
Finally, there is this radiant man with the still-raw holes in his out-stretched hands,
smiling at each of us through the lifting veils of Easter morning.

Over the years I was lulled through sleepy dawns in the quiet cool of the convent chapel.
The bright, rippling sea washing the sandy feet of the cliff colluded with the lullaby. Whistling, wheeling sand-martins or sea-winds did their vain best to rouse me. Dare I believe that in those half-aware moments of human infirmity,
through my unknowing fingers,
the far stars slipped like drops of redeeming blood whispering


Patricia Mary Bolton RSM


The sleepy earth, dons her fresh, crispy gown              
of verdant green.
New life springs, nudging the trees, flowers
and buds to burst forth.
Stirring slowly, they rise from their lethargy
as the miracle of nature unfolds.
Giving birth –creating a sense of wonder and awe.
The whole world wakes in peace and harmony;
transformed and dawning into glory
from the dark, gloomy grayness of winter
and the bright, bewildering wonder
of Easter Sunday when we contemplate
and fix our gaze on Christ’s Kingly splendor.
Our faces display and reflect His likeness
mirrored here,
Flooding our hearts with grace and mercy
In this new awakening
Spring IS HERE! 

Sr. Patricia Henry RSM



Wave upon wave folds star upon sliding star
into the wet dark sand
where a footprint fills and fades
to rise again on this third day
in scarred perfection
where the nail pierced.
Torn nerves mended
flesh smoothed
all pain ended
weeping soothed.

The air is incense.
A ribbon of Gold marks sea from sky
and Myrrh is abandoned with coiled linen
in the shadowy resonant tomb.
He walks again by the sea
in tune with the pulsing earth
and the wide-eyed melting sky.


 Patricia Mary Bolton RSM July 2010


Oh evening sky we lift our eyes in wonder
to see God's beauty written in your light.
So far beyond our wav’ring understanding
we feel the essence of your depth and height.
Revealing trace of that creative finger
in melting layers of somber and of bright
so subtly solved by time-bound limitation
enhanced in context of our human sight.

Patricia Mary Bolton RSM
July 2010
To the tune of Londonderry Air if wished