Mother Theresa Poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen

Your poem is full of simple eloquence, and it fittingly honors its subject in humble language. In response I would like to share a poem by my friend Yang Ke, written the day he read news of Mother Theresa's passing. (Yang Ke is Vice-Chairman of Guangdong Province Writers Association) . MOTHER THERESA This person who went among the crowd this doer of charitable works Begging bowl in hand in a blue-white cotton sari This spiritual seeker content with a lifetime of austerity On a morning in Calcutta stopped to rest her tired feet She felt the strength ebbing from her For whom do the bells toll? Strains of Diana's funeral choir Have died down, not reaching where Theresa sleeps in peace An eminent figure under a lonely halo set apart by holiness Not pretending to be more remarkable than the poor she served Fame was an unintended reward “I am not worthy” She saw herself as a pencil in God's hand Miracles were traces of her patient steady steps Attending to tasks for those who had nowhere to turn In an era of desire writ large, this was a kind of greatness She was the Way, the Spirit, and The truth A lavish state funeral would have been superfluous Her “life lived unto death” was already as plain as a shroud Her diminutive frame grew frail, sleeping on a straw mat She handed pills to lepers washed clothes their thick fingers could not hold A poor woman who loved the poor living in authenticity Her eyes turned to low places her soul ascended all the higher As the gate of heaven opened, she kept looking back Once again this maiden from Albania heeded A summons from her inner heart to leave her home “Go back to the earth, where there are no slums” Sept.9,1997 Translated by Denis Mair