I’m kneeling on All Souls’ day in a quiet chapel, soaking in the silence. I’m counting on my rosary: pipe bombs in the mail, grandparents shot in a grocery, Kaddish recited over and over in Pittsburgh. Some clasped hands are called dangerous un-American violent while others (white normative hands – my hands –) are prayerful peaceful. I know in my bones the Divine is more expansive than our human calculations of hands. I’m kneeling on a holy day in quiet remembrance: prayer without fear is a privilege. Grocery shopping without fear is a privilege. I’m praying when I unclasp my hands the real prayer begins and we will live a life expansive enough to belong to each other.
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Susan Sink says
I’m so pleased we are able to publish this poem this week. When I’m asked what good “political” poetry is, and good “religious” poetry, I’d offer this as an example.
Regina Bechtle, SC says
Hannah Conti, thank you. Your poem moves me to understand & lament white privilege at a deeper level than the most cogent articles & speakers have done.
Josina Cooper Guess says
Agreed! It’s a beautiful poem. Thank you for publishing it. It was hard to read the blue text over the photo. (At least from my phone) At first i thought the words weren’t there. I would hate for other readers to miss out on the words.
Collegeville Institute says
Thanks for letting us know, Josina. I hope the repositioning of the photo helps!