A flash from One Hundred Lost Letters*
Sometimes fake flowers are a kindness; mock the description is gentle; mock as a verb has a bittersweet sting. I arrange tissue lilies and cornflowers around the Child’s feet; himself an imitation of our living Divinity. An old sister comes up shaking her head. She thinks to scold me for causing her fever.
I seek to save her dignity and pluck three petals from their paper cluster. “So clever, what we can make these days.” I give her my best smile.
She responds with a brief bloom of friendship. Its scent remains with me; I scrunch up my sacrificed tokens.
The cloister walk’s flagstones are dappled with grace.
*an ongoing fragmentary project in which reflects on the lost letters of St Therese of Lisieux, 1873-97, to her confessor.
Sarah Law lives in London, UK, and is a tutor for the Open University. With work in America, The Windhover, Saint Katherine Review, and Presence among other journals, her next collection, Thérèse: Poems, is forthcoming from Paraclete Press. She edits Amethyst Review, an online journal for new writing engaging with the sacred.
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