John McCullagh December 6, 2009
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Despite our collective anguish at the current Church crisis, we remember our individual spiritual lives:  my contribution is this moving poem by Plunkett :

I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes …


His body gleams amid eternal snows
His tears fall from the skies …

I see his face in every flower
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but his voice ;  and carven by his power
Rocks are his written words …

All pathways by his feet are worn
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn
His cross is every tree.

Joseph Mary Plunkett

… God’s Garden ? …

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