Kay BellSeptember 18, 2020

Mother, I keep praying the parts of you
out of me   & yet you keep returning,

always wearing a secondhand dress
always fraught and wayward
always sunbathing in grief;

refusing to love any one island          or man.

& you know how hard I’ve tried to not disappoint you
           but how I’ve innately become a wound on the flesh     salted,

& how you have carried me like a knife on the tongue           twisting

& how each time I tried to say goodbye     it was your maternal glory
          that choked me

& then you couldn’t bear to love the one who reminded you                     of yourself,

& each time you tried    you were forced to recite prayers of your own:

Dear Lord, you have buried a gun in my womb    please    don’t shoot

More: Poems / Poetry

The latest from america

Stephen Chow, S.J. (photo courtesy the Chinese Province of the Society of Jesus) 
The diocese has been without a bishop since Jan. 3, 2019, when Bishop Michael Yeung Ming-cheung died after leading the diocese for just 17 months.
Gerard O’ConnellMay 17, 2021
Pope Francis brought consolation and hope to Catholics and countless people of other religions in Myanmar when he celebrated Mass in St. Peter’s Basilica this Sunday morning for peace in their troubled homeland, which was robbed of democracy by a military coup on Feb. 1.
Gerard O’ConnellMay 16, 2021
Pope Francis today expressed his “very great concern” at the armed clashes in Gaza and Israel and made an urgent, passionate appeal “to those with the responsibility” to bring a ceasefire and “to walk the path of peace.”
Gerard O’ConnellMay 16, 2021
I wondered if I could even be Catholic anymore, much less continue pursuing the priesthood somewhere else.
Bruce WilkinsonMay 15, 2021