the Spirit drove him into the desert and he remained
there. . .,
and was put to the test by Satan.
Mark 1:12-13
I'm thrust into deserts
everyday
by the broken cup,
the shrunken sweater,
the cherished table's water stain.
Perfection molts,
litters its ugly
outgrown skin
as evidence.
Am I really to blame?
The scar on my son's
silken cheek,
a playground wound,
still searing, red—
demands I look
at what could have been.
Flaws flower
in unrelenting sun.
Once I begin to complain,
I will never be done.
-- By:
Ms. Karen Jessee, OP - - a member of the Dominican
Laity, St. Mary Magdelene Group in Raleigh, NC. She writes and
teaches, living with her husband and children near Chapel Hill, North
Carolina.