Late, late the mind confessed:
wisdom has not sufficed.
I cannot take one step into the light
without the Christ.
Late, late the heart affirmed:
wild do my heart-beats run
when in the blood-stream sings one wish away
from the Incarnate Son.
Christ is my utmost need.
I lift each breath, each beat for Him to bless,
knowing our language cannot overspeak
our frightening helplessness.
Here where proud morning walks
and we hang wreaths on power and self-command,
I cling with all my strength unto a nail-
Christ is my only trust.
I am my fear since, down the lanes of ill,
my steps surprised a dark Iscariot
plotting in my own will.
Past nature called,
I cry who clutch at fingers and at tunic folds,
“Lay not on me, O Christ, this fastening.
Yours be the hand that holds.”
Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit, O.C.D.
Christ Is My Utmost Need
Powers, J 1999, The Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers, ICS Publications, Washington DC.
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