OUR SOULS, THEY ARE NOT DEAD

In silence late one evening, I found myself alone
Enjoying for the moment some peacefulness at home.
A steamy cup of coffee with a shot of Irish cream
Had lulled me into comfort when I drifted off to dream.
The mistiness around me draped my shoulders like a shawl
While voices so familiar seemed to beckon with a call.

“Pray for us, please pray for us, and offer up your pain,
We need your acts of charity to fall on us like rain.
Please sprinkle holy water, light a candle in our stead
For we long to see our Savior; our souls they are not dead.”
 

Stunned I peered in silence, as I strained to hear each sound,
From the shadows there before me as I knelt on holy ground.
Daddy? No, my Grandpa? Was that my late but dearest Aunt?
Did I hear the voice of family in this soft but pleading chant?

“Pray for us, please pray for us, and offer up your pain
We need your acts of charity to fall on us like rain
Please sprinkle holy water, light a candle in our stead
For we long to see our Savior; our souls they are not dead.”

Their entreaty begged compassion with a plea for so much prayer
That I quickly sought the face of God to implore Him then and there.
For the Holy Souls in Purgatory, dear Father, grant release
So soon their cries are silenced when at last they dwell in peace.

Still, if my Dad therein resides, or my Grandpa and my Aunt,
Please take them soon to heaven, of this I ask you grant.
With that I made a promise to pray and not forget
My family who may need me to help repay their debt.

At that their voices faded, I could barely hear their call.
Quiet darkness over took me, and I began to fall.
Then with a start, I awoke in pain, hot coffee on my pants.
But still I seemed to hear the sound of Poor Souls as they chant…

“Pray for us, please pray for us, and offer up your pain
We need your acts of charity to fall on us like rain
Please sprinkle holy water, light a candle in our stead
For we long to see our Savior; our souls they are not dead.”
 

Written October 15, 2011; used with permission.
For the Holy Souls In Purgatory

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Art for this poetry post on Our Souls, They are Not Dead:  The Catholic Church celebrates Zaduszki (“All Souls Day”) one day after the All Saints Day, Polish cemetery of Osobowice in Wroclaw (Poland), photographed by Klearchos Kapoutsis, 1 November 2009, CCA-2.0 Generic, Wikimedia Commons.

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