top of page
  • CFR Sisters

Prisoner of Love

Updated: Apr 15, 2020

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)


bottom of page