Читать книгу Benedict’s Daughter - Philip C. Kolin - Страница 13

Compline

The Day is Done

The convent has silenced the sky—

no bell clangs or calls

in this dark season; the day is done;

neither bunting nor jay takes wing;

night masks the earth’s green splendor

in mists and mazes.

Before the dim chapel lamp

the sisters beg for light to keep watch over

their thoughts and dreams,

and entreat angels to make rounds

evicting sin-sated whisperers

and phantoms in harlequin disguise.

In their cells, each sister undresses

her conscience, yet again

asking forgiveness for slipping

into vanity or being shackled in shame,

thieves of the day’s glory,

and then wills her soul to God

in scapular Latin, cloistered in her bed

(in manus tuas), just before she reaches

the shelter of feathers and wings.