Kevin Rice

How can it be that you are there
Quiet, hidden and at peace
In the long still silence of the monastery cell
And then, joyful and clamorous
...

Is anything more beautiful than this
To walk light-hearted in the morning wood
Where air and all the elements
Await expectantly
...

It's you, O, Lord
Who writes the words
Which fill the pages
Of the book
...

Am I secure in silence?
Am I safe
When I am still?
Is there peace in repose?
...

All was peaceful in the house that day
An uneventful morn like any other
Half-heartedly I trifled
At ordinary things,
...

As the leaf falls
So shall I
When autumn asks for me
...

Wordsmiths we are,
Who dig and cut
The rough gems of sentiment and notion
And cut again,
...

Conveyed there by an artist's hand
In peasant garb, at harvest time,
A couple in the twilight stand
As church bells, in the distance, chime
...

On my dark canvas
A bleak story lies
That speaks of foul deceit
Engulfed in shadows,
...

At his command we rowed from shore
Till finally, afar in the Sea of Galilee
Our sail snatched up the wind
And bore us forth
...

The crown of thorns
Pulled roughly from beside
The dry road
Of my way to your will
...

He is the sole creator of my life
He guides the balance of my every breath,
He gives before I ask, and gives again
An everlasting peace, beyond all death
...

Harsh were the times we lived in
Austere were the laws of Moses and of Rome
And in our servitude
We women of Jerusalem
...

Henceforth men shall remember me
Men of every ilk and class
Because of what I failed to see
When signs and wonders came to pass
...

A Shepherd's Tale

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
Did each their story write
...

High on a hill is the city fair
Where it's my hope to dwell
The King of Kings is the ruler there
And He ruleth all full well
...

I, John, had a vision
Wherein, filled with amazement
I witnessed the end of days.
To fellow travellers on this earthly road
...

Blessed Mary,
Queen of peace and the still heart
Matchless mother, guardian of our prayers,
Be heedful of our supplication.
...

On that rugged Umbrian rock
Twixt Tiber and Arno
While deep was my sorrow,
Tempered with quiet joy and gratitude,
...

He who lets the birds fly free
And fish, in infinite oceans, swim
Sees the ant in his small domain
And loves the microscopic brain
...