Camp Lourdes

It is the rain
Drumming on the aluminum roofs
In the warmth of a summer storm
That are memories of summer camp
Echoing in the maze of memory.

For the first time I walked
The miles along the railroad tracks
Running close behind the camp
Perched on a sandy spit
Up against the shoulder of the
Mountain slope leaning close
Towards the lake.
I still feel the trembling of the ground
As the train rumbled past
In daytime or in night's late hours
The smell of the tar coated ties
Weighing on the hot summer air
The heat radiating off the steel ties
As around the corner the train
Would suddenly appear to thunder  by
Into the passing distance.

Much of my life ran through
This little piece of paradise
The threads of my future
Entwining in the web that is my life still
Filled with the light reflecting off the sunlit waters
Or the moonlight a beckoning path
Cutting through the silent darkness
After the leaves that sang with the
Breezes blowing off the afternoon lake
Fell quiet for the night.

There were sorrows too
Youthful dreams that wandered
Dangerously towards the shadows
The bitter truth of human failings
Especially my own
But it is the quiet
Inside the small wooden
Clapboard chapel
With the hiss of the propane lamps
Illuminating with beauty
The eternal drama of salvation
That  urged and fed the youthful soul.
The old wooden launch plied
The waters between
Shores busy and quiet
Those seven years that took
My youth in stride.

One final night the campfire
Sending sparks and our voices
Up into the night sky
Grew cold as dawn's fingers
Crept over the morning horizon
As we sat huddled in the cool morning air
Aware we were saying goodbye
To a privileged time.
I have more memories to mine one day
Now that the camp is gone
I see it on the shore from a distance
Now a stranger's summer property
But I still hear childrens voices
Echo where time has taken its rest.

A Safe Refuge

At sixteen the world
Is still a new place
While young to leave home
Many have begun their vocation
Indeed, it was a year
To learn the gifts given
For eager I had set off
A new school, in a new town
An extension of summer camp
With new friend's met
A chance given to be at a
School run by my faith.

Without regrets, oh, callow youth
I dusted off my hometown roots
Sailing into adventure wide-eyed
Safe in my journey, not looking back.
But in three weeks time
The reality of my change
Hit my youthful optimism
My feet slipping and unable to feel
The rug of familiar ties.

So to the church I fled
One night, plotted carefully
Aided by my room mate
I brought my sleeping bag
Tucked it under the side tabernacle altar
And hid beneath until the church
Was to be locked for the night.
I could see the priest
Genuflect in front of me
His eyes not directed downward
Preoccupied in thought
As I held my breath
And then he was gone and I
With the Lord above me
Was all alone.

Ah, the silence broken at last
By an outpouring of youthful tears
The aisles paced in the safety of solitude
As I wondered out loud
At my hastily chosen fate
My newly made friends
Had busy lives
It was I who had the task at hand
To find my way
Sustained with prayers from home.

At last I was calm
Tired from the struggle
To sort my confusing thoughts
I sang as I sat on the altar stairs
Not unlike the times of old
When music raised questions
Before the Lord.
Then weary I crept to
My bed upon the floor
My heart emptied and still
And there I slept until
Awoken at six when a vigil
Candle glass exploded.

It's true that dawn
Brings hope
Stiff and sore but content
I listened for the elderly
Caretaker to finish his morning prayers
I carefully appeared in a pew
Aware that his eyes were suspicious
At the hair unkempt and the noiseless entrance
But I kept my head down
Ready for my coming year.

It was in this church
Almost forty years later
Face down on the floor
Our new shepherd
Received his ordination
The Church sending forth
Future's hope into the world and
Safe refuge for Her own.

The Heat of Summer

When the sun
Bears down on the earth
To bring the bustle and noise of the world
To slow motion and to rest
It is the lazy
Tsch, tsch, of the tall sprinklers
At work in the hay fields
That speak to me of summer and the
Oppressive heat where the lone
Loud chorus of grasshoppers sing intently
In the tall grass and sweet smelling
Alfalfa soon to be mowed and
Left lying in hillside sun 
To dry in rows, then haystacks
Stored in the barn's loft
For the winter's feed.

In irony, I, who was born
On one of the hottest of summer days
Was usually reduced
To a blubbering  puddle of tears
Unable to bear the heat that usually
Marked my passing years in time.
In the aftermath of my meltdowns
The acacia spread its
Branches in kindness
To shade me from the sweltering rays
Where I could sit and listen
To the sounds of summer's song.

Or sometimes on the covered front porch
I would gently swing in the little hammock
Watching the late afternoon sun
Dance in the Virginia creeper leaves
And  then we would be friends again
The sun and I.

The Liturgical Ghetto

Here in the heart
The home of God's house
Lies in ruins,
A ghetto filled with
The filth of indifference,
God now forgotten
As man glorifies himself.

It is a fearsome place.
No longer the refuge found
When I was young,
And my rosary was a train
To wile the time that weighed
Heavy to a young child.
Peace was always to be found in
God given silence that spoke
To my little soul.

The music in this church
No longer whispers
Heavenly anticipation.
Hades shouts its melodies
To beat and harass us.
I would avoid this place of torment
Except that He is here.
I hang on in hope
That the clamoring world will be sent
Outside once more.

Here in this liturgical ghetto
There is a stench and darkness in the air
Loathsome creatures that scurry
The rats are in charge of the ship,
Who like jailers
Would beat us without mercy
With their egos and vile interpretations.
I pray for hope,
That this sad time will
Pass before I do.