The Cell
Freedom, here, abides in this cell before me,
bound to a crude, stone throne of eternity
to reconcile Creator with creation
and prevail against the proud, spiteful nations.
Terrified, here, I quake in His bold Presence —
He crowned, beaten and robed by flesh’s fragile weakness.
Ancestors and heirs mock you with reed and shame;
How dare I then petition and speak your name.
The Man, yet, manifests mercy with a glance,
the eyes, of which, pierce deeper than nails or lance.
Yet He beckons me anon in a humble tongue
with a searing breath from the Song forever sung.
This man, timidly, fails to imagine well
the new life bursting forth from this lowly cell;
But renew my contrite heart which yearns to sing:“Victory on Calvary — behold the King!”
Andrew Fowler is the Editor of RealClearReligion and the Communications Specialist at Yankee Institute. He also is the author of "The Condemned," a novella about a Catholic priest fighting off the cartel to save the residents of a small desert town (which you can find here).
