In my room is just silence, just silence and me
I sit, kneel, and stand, ever watchful to be
With oil in my lamp and pure nard in my jar
Head cocked, I wait, hopeful, for Him from afar
“Afar’s” not quite right, though, in truth He is near
Yet the sound of His coming’s a balm to my ear
I watch the clock closely, I watch and I pray
For the moment He’ll come—I know He won’t delay
Then there’s the faint sound, and I rise with a start
Here He comes, here He comes, sings the bell to my heart
I rush to the sink and wash left hand and right
Then swing my door open with joy at the sight:
Mother Clare is just steps away, treasure in tow
A smile on her face—it’s a smile that knows
Knows my great longing and the gift that she brings
A gift given to paupers and given to kings
We pray the Our Father and “Behold, the Lamb of God”
While kneeling I see Him, and my soul is awed
That He, the Almighty, has become so small
To be brought to me, hidden, confined by four walls
Yet His coming reminds me: in fact, I am free
His grace gives me peace, joy, sometimes even glee
With warm heart I’m thankful for this food from above
And, nourished, I give praise as a pris’ner of love.
Emma (Postulant)