by Johanna Caton
No shame in it: those exotics followed a prodigy of astronomy. No money in it, but follow anyway. Do. You will not be the same you, the tame you, afterward. And wear silk, even though it will be a trek, and you will arrive a filthy wreck and find only cave-dwellers a few shepherds, their sheep, and mice in prodigious numbers, for they know safety when they find it. No fame in it. None. You will remain unsung. But in passing, I might mention the sheets hung on high lines, fluttering like grace-notes in flight. This will suffice.
Johanna Caton, O.S.B., is a Benedictine nun of Minster Abbey in England. Originally from Virginia, she lived in the U.S. until adulthood, when her monastic vocation took her to Britain. Her poems have appeared in both online and print publications, including The Christian Century, The Windhover, A Time of Singing, Amethyst Review, The Ekphrastic Review and the Catholic Poetry Room webpage at integratedcatholiclife.org. Some of her poems can be found at www.integratedcatholiclife.org/?s=johanna+caton