Treasure Island

rosalinda flores rosevoc


The Grace of His Light Saves Us


I hurried to reach you in your room of books.

There you were praying, anointing your blessings for us.

Your prayers and all our prayers unite in God’s heart.

You said, “The grace of His light saves us! ”

I worried. We worried. Be peace in Syria!

Be peace in all the world!

Prayers, big and small miracles become a concrete wailing wall,
a dome, the mountain of Moses, the sacrifice of Abraham, fatalities
of Job.

Prayer is Magdalene’s incense, Solomon’s songs, the widow’s alms.

It is the sacrifice of the sick, life of soldiers, the cross of Christ!

Vocation!

Chants must surround the earth like angels.

I wish I were beside you in my lamentations.

Passing lights, neons of blue, green, yellow and whites,
in a spectrum of Theology I dreamt of you.

Last night, on the ninth day, in sweet September
with Santo Hannibal, we were there.

For zeal, in ten days of union, you came in my night of pleas.

“The grace of His Light saves us! ”

I danced that you may see a daughter, a poem for your heart.

Angels opened doors, chanted as summoned.

Mats, soft and red, laid bare my womb.

Newspapers abound culture. Everyone read the texts.

My letters, wrote vowels of barks, like ancient
stones, a ziggurat!

I wept at your feet, before you, like Magdala to Jesu,

I kissed your feet.

You were there with the relics, a guru that always asked
me to write a hundred inspirations.

The Psalms came into what you hoped me to be, a bloody
hero of words, day and night a target of muses,
and bleeding drops of red.

I am a relic of the past sifting through time.

I am judge of the moons, spine and bones of literature,
here is the twilight of the gods and
golden hours and metaphors to your desk.

“Jesus heals, ” you said.

“Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.”

Tongues of fire in the room and a tiny hat on your head Pope Francis,
you, adorable as sunrise!

Brother Cyprian of St. Mary Magdalene speaks,

“Monks are man alone but united to all.”

My poem Imbroglio rhymes with Bergoglio.

Monkey George makes Marco and the children happy!

St. Benedict’s medal around our necks!

I remember you, dear Father, as two rivers come together.

Nuestra Senora De La Paz, pray for us!

“The grace of His light saves us! ”

Then you touched my head like a baby,
let anoint me words that kiss clouds with flames,

“Oracion por la paz en Siria! ”

“The grace of His light saves us! ”

Vigilia por la paz!

In a great circle of the horizon, all hands meet with God,
like forming halos of light with angels,
a zuni becomes a heart of peace en el mundo!

Layers of light, come!

Flower lights be after the rain!

Come, Holy Spirit, come!

Submitted: Saturday, September 14, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 16, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

On my 9th day of prayer (Novena to Saint Hannibal) , this September 2013 - I dreamt of Pope Francis I.

Thank you, dear God for the zeal and my narrative to share.

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, we trust in You!

Smile all!

/rosevoc2

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