A Bible,
A crucifix,
A rosary from Rome,
A statue or two,
The Imitation of Christ,
A confirmation certificate.
All that is left of a child’s faith,
Tattered and torn
Like all broken things,
Like all broken men,
Rejected, returned.
At least, I think to myself,
He gave them back to us
Instead of throwing them in the garbage
Before going to pursue a path
That breaks a mother’s heart.
In so doing he gave back his inheritance,
Not quite squandered like the prodigal son,
For in our keeping still
For the day of his return
When we shall run down the road to meet him with joy.
Teresa of Gethsemane 