On My Ordination Day

I had forgotten this day,
or rather, that this was the day,
my ordination day.
The crypt is full of friends,
families, even strangers,
priests and deacons,
at least one bishop, maybe more;
festivities are waiting
across the street, delights
hard to number but easy to swallow.
The Heir shall come and lay
upon heads his hands,
calling down the Paraclete
forever changing destiny;
to serve and not to be
served, bearing upon heads
the weight of the gospel,
the proclamation and the message,
and held forth in hands
the pressure of the chalice,
bearing the weight of the world.
Today is my ordination day
and I am not there.
To mind are a thousand reasons
to be present at the altar,
yet only one that called me away,
a tingling, small voice
that only speaks in silence
and even then is quiet.
The years have not made clearer the call
save that it remains what it was
which is to be elsewhere, elsewise.
The heart of the mystery remains
mysterious, other, distant, present;
only the encounter has taken me away,
laid low my present for the sake
of what has not yet come to pass.
For two years I have not advanced
so clearly as those in the crypt,
my firm and sure plans muddled
in wind and rain and passing days;
there is no book, no chalice, no stole,
no altar, no hands, no kiss;
I wait and cannot wait,
for today is my ordination day
and I am not there.

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2 Responses to On My Ordination Day

  1. Bird says:

    This was the last post you ever posted? Are you sure you want to leave it like that? Always a loose end? It might just be that I have an overabundance of them, but it is certainly a rather bleak place to abandon a blog..

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