Straw


This week’s poem in the Catholic Poetry Room is by Jeffrey Essmann.                                                                                                                                         

Straw

Aquinas one day at his daily Mass
Was swept into a moment of such bliss
As to all human language quite surpass,
Description mute before its bright abyss.
And afterward the Doctor there and then,
Still inward trembling with a holy awe,
Laid down forevermore his sainted pen,
Declaring all he’d writ as naught but straw.
If that be so I’m writing with a rake
And verse like fodder piling into stacks.
The path to God I thought my words might make
Are more the carpet of a cattle track.
And yet I pray this straw of mine might raise
A choir of scarecrows, voices sere with praise.


Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His work has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review and The Road Less Traveled. He is a Benedictine oblate of Mt. Saviour Monastery.

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About the Author

Jeffrey Essmann, ICL Poetry Curator To submit poetry to be considered for the Catholic Poetry Room, visit our submission guidelines page.


Jeffrey Essmann is Poetry Editor for IntegratedCatholicLife.org and always searching for the best Catholic poetry from today's poets as well as those of the past.

Jeffrey is an essayist and poet living in New York. His work has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review and The Road Less Traveled. He is a Benedictine oblate of Mt. Saviour Monastery.

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