I don’t have wings today. My spirit sags with the weight of gathering clouds. I’ve lost myself. Which takes me back inside those heavy stone walls of the convent, where I fall into anonymity again. Where we supposedly melded ourselves into one smooth-running machine,
in order to better serve the Lord.
Where. . . .am I headed now?
Am I too late . . .?
Who. . . in the world . . . .am I
I ask again. . .