a Life of Stripping Bare.

It was the way the room
Was laid out and the bare
Wooden floors, that first
Drew you to the convent.
The utter silence that almost
Deafened, the first light of
Dawn without radio or alarm
Clock filling your ears, but
The one bell calling you to

God’s day, the solitary bell’s
Tongue waking you from
Slumbering sleep. You’d
Seen the picture in a magazine,
The colourful invitation
That touched some secret
Place in you, that spoke to
You as if God himself had
Voiced His call, the nun in
Prayer, the way she knelt,

The simplicity of it all,
The stripping away of
Worldly things and cares
And vanities and jewels
And positions in high
Places; no more putting
On of graces or deceitful
Faces, but being the plain
Person, the stripping down
To the essence of the person

You are, the seeking out
And touching God, to sense
His presence, to feel His love.
That’s what you saw in that
Picture and feature that day,
That call to a life of prayer,
A life of sacrifice, a life of
Finding out God’s will,
A life of stripping bare.