each noon,
rosary buried in the palm
of my hand
lest someone see it and know
of my prayer.
I pass the homeless,
the families and
the college students hurrying to class.
All the while
my prayer continues,
but now, it includes each of those
I pass on the way.
A stranger asks
"What are you doing?
Talking to yourself?"
I don't answer as the blush
of embarrassment covers my face.
I try to keep my lips from moving
so that only God will know of my
noontime conversation with Him.
But sometimes, I get carried away
in prayer and lose awareness of my surroundings.
All through the rosary and the
Chaplet of Divine Mercy
my fingers work the beads
as fast as my feet work the sidewalk.
I cross over to the college campus
and nod to the priest as he leaves the
Church of the Gesu
in appreciation for the many confessions
he's listened to my heart unburden.
Ave's continue for family and friends,
strangers and acquaintances
and my very own soul
as I skirt around the little French
St. Joan of Arc Chapel
and wind my way back
to work.
Now, I am refreshed,
renewed,
and able to continue my day
of service to others
after having given the service of my heart
to the Lord.
