The Sister

Poem By Rolland Heiss

The hallowed convent halls have held her
In quiet repose for fifty years
Sometimes she wonders if it's been worth
All the struggle, sorrow, pain and tears

Her aged hands are warped from labor
In service to her beloved God
And thoughts arise in her weary mind
As she strolls along the esplanade

The holy see in Rome once praised her
Or at least the convent as a whole
For their ceaseless service to the poor
He said they've played a vital role

The thought brought joy to her weathered face
For the recognition did her good
But we shouldn't seek the praise of men
And of this the sister understood

Yet it helped to validate her life
As she, much like Thomas, has her doubts
But they come and go sparatically
On morning walks or midnight bouts

And mostly she is content with God
Although his glory she cannot see
Yet in patient service she awaits
The loving arms of eternity

Oh dear sister, if there is no God
I tell you now, you've not lived in vain
For you gave us hope when days were dark
And your seeds of kindness will remain.

©

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