an old writer and his words

  • ASKING

    Asking saints to intercedeis something quite new to me,having never considered that saintswere people whom I might seek out. I’ve started carefully, onlyseeking saints who hangon my family tree, Margaret,Itta, Begga, Adela, Arnulf, and I’ve vowed to ask nothingfor myself, for karma willsee to me one way or another,so I ask only for those in…

    Lou Faber

  • THE SAINT OF UNCOUNTED NAMES

    A desert again,always a desertand she the saintof uncounted names,her crying eases, nosmile appears for thisMadonna of the coyotes,her orange-orbed eyesshuttered against theslowly retreating sun.Once her tears wateredthe desert sands, mixedwith the blood of a Christnow long forgotten, trans-substantiated into a spiritwe formed in our image,no longer we in his.The Blessed Motherwatches, holding hope,holding space,…

    Lou Faber

  • THE DOTTED LINE

    Now that I have discoveredmy Catholic and Protestant ancestorsI know it is time to considerwhat hell must be like. I know it is not fire and brimstone,that went the way of old lorewhen the Impressionists came along. So I imagine Hell must bevery much like getting caughtlooking at the new carsin the showroom while you…

    Lou Faber

  • STARS

    Once the winter starswrapped in their cloudy shroudshed frozen tears, unwillingto come out of hiding.We searched for them in vain,knowing our failure,retreating to the warmthof home, only to repeatthe failed effort on somany other nights. Now, here, the winter starsare usually fearless,some drowned by the moon,but she waxes and wanesand they reappear, the brightestnever fearing…

    Lou Faber

  • OH, HELL

    You say that I am an apostate,hell bent, hell bound, soon to meetthe hell hound awaiting my arrival. You have condemned me for thoughtsthat deviate from your own, youare the guardians of the Word, you say, although whose words you guard is everharder and harder to discern, certainlynot those of He who died for saying…

    Lou Faber