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)