Serenity and the Stigmata as One

To be a monk is not to quit, give up,

Retreat, surrender like defeated saints

Who know they cannot win, whose deepest cup

Is not the Grail, or scour the soul for taints.

To be a monk is not to pray and work

And give that daily work to God as if

It’s more than making cheese, and not to shirk

The world as if it waits, a death-leap cliff.

To be a monk is not to write on air

Philosophy, or Christ, of Buddha, or

On sinlessness imagined like Saint Clare.

It seldom is to live in prayer and soar.

  Instead it is to make the black hand grasp

    The white and hold their pain beads in one clasp.

~ Phillip Whidden

This sonnet was originally posted on June 26, 2025.  That post was destroyed by my hosting service, Bluehost.  This was because of an evil thing that Elegant Themes did to my website.