The Abbess Of The Abyss Poem by Sonny Rainshine

The frayed hem of her solemn habit,
skirted the quartz pebbles along the path
on the perimeter of the abbey’s grounds,
polishing the stones like the mahogany
aves and paters of the rosary
spilling from her belt,
clattering as if praying itself.

The way by the cliffs
was her via dolorosa,
a passage to those interior castles
inhabited by her namesake.
The trail followed the canyon’s rim
like gilt on the brim of a cup,
and never exceeded a foot in width.

More than once her booted heel
had encountered a small root
or a stone that the rains had unearthed
and more than once had she escaped
catastrophe. She recalled the beads
rattling in alarm,
like a startled diamond back.

Occasionally she would pause her walk
and squint into the space between the cliff edge,
that vast abyss that echoed her own doubts,
and the copse of evergreens far below.

Oh, if only my love for My Lord
were as alive as my reverence
for the fragrant green sanctuary there,
I might walk on higher ground,
might resist the momentary
impulse to leap.