The Smoking Nun

God’s grace, bathed in divine light.
Casting gold over cracking skin and fallen vows.
The vessel inside, so empty at the beginning.
Now overflows like a cup of human kindness.
What troubles does she have at the seat of the saints?
What ails her heart that cannot be soothed?
Sweet words from Jesus must mend the wound.
She smiles at a knowing, a celestial secret.
Whispered to her in the musky wooden rooms of god.
All this is but temporal.
All pain is marginal.
Your being is relative to the consciousness you invoke.
So why does she smoke?

5 thoughts on “The Smoking Nun

  1. I love this one!
    The smoking nuns.
    Divine connection
    With a shared cigarette, each one.
    No one is perfect, none of us, not one.
    But we all seek the all, in the all-loving None.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Something to do with the hands. Either stilled in prayers or busy doing. Smoking is an activity while the mind worries. You present contradictions so beautifully.


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