You took the vow of poverty
and the rest of us keep it,
said a priest-friend and
yes I took the vow, and
it clings like a puppy
to the hem of my friar’s robe.
It’s not the toughest vow to keep—
no, not chastity—
but obedience, giving up
those elusive possessions:
the ego, the will, the petty
need to be in charge.
But meanwhile the shelves groan
under the books that a superior
once predicted would tumble
on my sleeping form:
“FRIAR KILLED BY WALL OF FALLING BOOKS”
(Film at eleven).
They multiply when I’m not there,
and in my closet the shirts,
which looked so cool in the Facebook ads,
dangle in mockery
as Francis of Assisi
hunkers down
in the dust
under the hangers
in unfashionable rags.
14 thoughts on "You took the vow of poverty"
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This is fantastic.
Greg, I love how approachable you are when you write being being a monk. I appreciate the humor. I remain a fan!
such great imagery into your life!
Lord grant me [poverty]–but not yet!
*smiles*
love: clings like a puppy
to the hem of my friar’s robe.
lol: “FRIAR KILLED BY WALL OF FALLING BOOKS”
Great imagery.
And an interesting statement
“no, not chastity—
but obedience”
as being the hardest vow to keep…
Now that you write this, I suppose staying chaste is a subset of being obedient.
There’s a lot here to chew on, thanks!
Many wonderful lines here, Greg. Pam mentioned my two favorite one!
You know, I’ve benefitted from reading your LexPoMo contributions, but this one? WOW!
Even though I’m a wondering agnostic, possibly a Sufi in the works (wouldn’t that be nice?), this poem is still relateable for me. I didn’t take a vow to live in poverty,; I became fully disabled at 41. Chastity too is no problem — I’m not interested. I find “intimacy” annoying, boring, It’s always been the Other trying to control me, and “intimacy” is so easily a weapon. <>
But yes, obedience is the toughie. I even resent my alarm clock! And in the broader sense, being disobedient is becoming a civic duty. I’m definitely part of The Resistance.
But still obedience has plagued me. If I’d listened to the common sense it so often offers, been less headstrong, my life might have been very different.
Some years back I wrote a poem dedicated to the Iranian woman who wrote Reading Lolita in Tehran. In this poem, I too envisioned an avalanch of books. But it doesn’t kill me…I simply have to lie very still so I’m not found. Ah, the friendly books cover me, give me sanctuary.
Perhaps there is an element of the sanctuary books offer you in this wonderful poem!
Funny how I never thought of books as possessions before, but I suppose they are
They are when you have to ship 20+ boxes of them across country!!
I love this and your openness to allow a glimpse of a life never thought of again by myself once the door behind the pulpit is drawn shut.
My husband and I laugh about what we primarily collect, even after all these years – he says we are hoarders of books, rocks, sticks, and memories. It is a good way to categorize what we apparently value most.
Love this! I chuckled out loud through this wonderful piece! Plus, so revealing and thought-evoking.
The tone is wonderful: light-hearted but tackling deep, spiritual issues. And I loved the image of “yes I took the vow, and/ it clings like a puppy/ to the hem of my friar’s robe.”