The Cycle Begins
I remember as a youngster
watching the wheels
my daddy's bike
when he would dismount
and let them spin their cycle
with fluent rhythm
as the bike itself,
tired from its travels,
would hug the grass
as it lay abandoned
at the back gate of Beechmont Avenue.
One of the spokes was blackened
and it would dizzy my head
when I attempted
to count the revolutions
and with childish innocence,
marvel how the wheels could turn
and yet the bike was going nowhere.
God of the Lenten days,
let me begin again the spinning of the cycle,
where audible spokes made from
critical and judging comments
have darkened my turning wheels.
And may the prayer,
the fasting and the almsgiving
propel my travels
through the journey's sextet
and in so doing transport me
to the promised joy of Easter
(Sr.Perpetua McNulty)
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