The Chair of Saint Peter - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

The Chair of Saint Peter

Wherever our errant bishop teaches
There is his throne: a rock beside the road
A rock beside the road that leads to Rome
A wooden bench in a laborer’s hut

A grassy bank along a fishy stream
A pile of hay in a stable by night
The ivory couch in a rich man’s house
Or the floor of the executioner’s cart

Wherever our vagrant bishop teaches
There is his throne, where we attend his words

Is This Seat Saved?

Mack Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Is This Seat Saved?

As Abraham was called to leave his home,

To serve one God in haunted emptiness
Where errant spirits misguided pilgrims’ steps
Into those thickets that entangled lost souls

And

As Brother Francis, barefoot in the wild,

With rock and prayer rebuilt long-fallen shrines
When they had crumbled into weed-choked ruins
Where wolves gnawed on the bones of civilization

Now

An old man riding in a city bus,

Wearing spectacles and a cheap wristwatch,
Has come to see us through the wilderness,
And enkindle for us the Easter fire