The ultimatum handed down from Rome
to Sister Joan at Holy Souls and calm
ol’ Father Galvin at my highschool home—
that catechismic chorus meant as balm
for reason: God always was and always
will be…Even as a kid I could peek
through the second clause’s door, paraphrase
forever moving forward—no tipped peak
for hoisting a standard, no finish line.
Yet even now, at sixty-five, I can’t
grasp a chasmic beginning, a divine
and seamless dark—endless race so distant
it boasts no start. Love, even you, so wise,
cite limits to deep lenses of your eyes.
Roger Armbrust
May 20, 2009
