Posted by: Peadar Ban | February 9, 2010

Scriptorium

(With apologies to an Irish monk and Kuno Meyer)

How, in the pool of candle light, the vellum sheet
Looks soft as sweet Christ’s skin as I dip my quill
Into this pot of brilliance and begin to work
On the first letter of the first word Saint John wrote,
And pray it will be as pure when I am done
While my white cat lies curled, warm at my feet.
She will move soon after some soft noise or slight smell
Beyond my reckoning, bent as I will be to
My task, spreading the light of Christ with each deft stroke;
A measure of His love for all of us poured through
My quill, soon to be devoured by hungry souls.
She about her work, as I at my slow duty,
Goes in silence.  Both of us contemplate our life
Where charity and grace have shone their sweet rays
Completing the plan our bright King ordained
Who will, I pray again, smile as He gazes on
This exercise along the margin of the page;
My simple telling of the life we live for Him,
Me and my white cat, Pangur Ban.

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