We drove by the church I attened with my Nonna as a child, Saint Patricks, my memories of the Catholic church were actually fond and full of love!
I stepped down memory lane
Today and saw
Father Kelley in his
Red hair standing there
Carrying a friend of mine
Down the long stairway
Because when she was four
An accident changed her life
In an instant
She wore braces
And used a voicebox
But she was strong
And carried on through the bullies
And the foolishness of children
Who just did not know better.
I see the way Father Kelley
Was gentle and kind
Always a kind word
And a gentle word
For all who passed him by.
I never felt uncomfortable around
This man of God
Only welcomed and loved.
I took a picture
Today of the front entrance
Surrounded by shade trees
And memories
Some of the building redone
The stain glassed windows
Shinning bright
Reminding me of the times
I would look at those windows
And make up stories to go along
I think the Lord planted the start
Of a seed then
Before I had even given my heart over to Him.
I may not agree with everything
The Roman Catholic Church stands for
But I cherish those memories
And the love of Christ
Nonna shared with me
And those memories of Father Kelley.
Copyright Michelle R Kidwell
June.11.09
12: 12 A.M PST
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem