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| Hard of hearing, songs long gone. Tunes to heaven all gone wrong. What is left is hope and faith; driest winds and stinging sand. These old bones will rise again; just don't press me as to when. (April 18, 2006) |
| Poem of an Old Christian |
| Copyright � Our Lady of the Graces Hermitage. All rights reserved. |
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| Worn out, abused and used. Scarred and twisted, bled and wounded; had and done and dry and withered. Flower come and went and seeds dispersed; If there's fruit it's budding somewhere. |