At_Last

In Carrickmacross, By sisters there, As tattered lace I was repaired, Of damaged psyche Love crocheted, Embellishing that which God had made And fate had flayed. Thus concealed, Wounds unhealed Were patched through prayer And children's care.

Cloistered, Seasons turning shades

Ancient masters From their graves Spoke to me.

To me.

To me, alone.

"Gavin,", In whispers, At vespers,

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