St. Teresa of Avila

“There is a time for penance, and a time for partridge.” — St. Teresa

Faith feels like a foot
relinquishing its devotion
to shoes. Nothing left
for your soles but prophecy.

Nothing left to weave
against the cold but visions
of Christ, of demons.

No time to write, take it
in snatches.

A loose thread here, a tuck there.

No roses in your hair, no scent
of magnolia on your wrist.
No bread for the table,
wine and gossip for the lips.

You pick up the vow of poverty,
silence, prayer.

You remove your own name, falling
in ashes to the floor.