Saint Rita Pray for Us
These words are scrawled across
the pendant I wear like a shield around my neck.
You who wanted to be an Augustinian nun
quietly submitted to the duties of an arranged
marriage – Pray for me.
Pray for me. When your husband struck
you, you turned to God. When he was angry,
you remained patient and when he was dying
from a crimson wound you prayed for him
and he was repentant – Pray for me.
Pray for me when I am not sitting
in deep oak pews on Sunday morning
when the church bells ring, when I do
not receive the body and blood
of Christ – Pray for me.
Pray for me when he grabs my upper arm
staining my pale skin, when he corrects
my hemline, forbids me to see
my friends – Pray for me.
Pray for me. I wear my faith in secret
like my ancestors whose bones are dust
in the rich soil of the earth.
The communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins.
I kneel at the edge of my bed, rosary
folded over my left hand,
a single bead pinched between my right
thumb and index finger, I recite
one Our Father then Hail Mary’s.
Saint Rita pray for us.
For more poetry from Mary K Meadows send an email to mmeadows07@gmail.com