Hand In Hand 1963 Poem by Terry Collett

Martha flinched,
but didn't cry
as the wooden ruler

hit the palm
of her hand;
to her

it was as if the nails
were once again
being nailed

into palm
of the Crucified;
the pain

was His gift
to her,
a sharing

of His pain.
Sister Rose,
who to Martha

had witch-like features,
brought the ruler
down with

determined effort
and gazed at her.
The sting

of the pain
vibrated along
her held out arm

and Martha's eyes
were fixed
on the area above

the witch's head
as if maybe
an angel

would appear
and nod
the Crucified's

approval
and all was watery
and out of focus.

Tu enim, Domine
Deus meus,
Martha muttered

under her breath,
musing through
the sting,

the Crucified's death.
Other hand,
Sister Rose said,

indicating
with a nod
of her habited head.

Martha raised
her other hand,
palm upwards,

put her wounded palm
by her side
seemingly on fire.

The witch
brought down
the ruler

on the open palm,
eyes bright
as an hawk's,

the same intent
to harm or kill
it seemed.

Martha wondered,
as the explosion
hit flesh

whether
the Crucified
would forgive

the penguin's
merciless hammering.
She supposed

He would
as was His wont,
but to her

the nun
was a fecking
cant.