The Priest Writes His Desire

Shadows on the scans.

Nothing they can do, doctors say.

So he sits with a pen in his hand

to tell his friends. He is not surprised;

he had been weakening every day.

And God has manifested in his good health

for more than eighty years.

Now, he writes, it is "a blessing

to have things clear, with no need

to make a lot of difficult decisions."

Now, God manifests in his final illness

"and this is great," he writes,

though perhaps no one will understand

as they see only the loss and darkness ahead

while he stands in the light of transformation.

Some may talk to him of heaven

and comfort and the things to come.

All this, he knows well,

but now, he sits in the night

with the pen in his hand

and thinks that with tumors and shadows

in his stomach and lungs

he has no interest in the land

of the future. Why should he?

when right now the moon is full

and even near midnight

casts shadows in the dark – of the trees,

of the parish house where he lives,

of the chapel's holy cross,

of his own hand as he writes

    What I really want

    is to become the Flow of the Spirit...

    to fully enter into the movement of Reality.

    No scenarios about what's to come.

    Just live the Now.

Now, putting the pen down.

Now, folding the paper just right.

Now, breathing in.

Now, rising in all the moonlight

and walking with his shadow

from this room

to the next.