Haiti
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Reflections on Integral Ecology by Sister Kay O’Connell
Inspired by the Poetry of Seamus Heaney
Digging
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests, snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father digging.
By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.
My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.
But I‘ve no spade to follow men like them.
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.
The Risen Christ, the man of Nazareth, is on the cutting edge of every spade,
needle, baseball, test tube, pen, page, word, brush, note, song, spoon
question, idea, pointer, piece of chalk, keyboard, ipad, desktop,
breath, thought, dream, and longing, straining ever forward
Christ Omega, the ultimate point of this evolving universe,
the Fire that drives cosmogenesis on to its Pleroma,
its unimaginable fulfillment in God.
~Kay O'Connell
