Priest's Kid

Priest's Kid

February 25, 2020 1 Comment

By Catherine Hervey


If they aren’t family, you don’t know
the spit at the corner of the mouth
as they say words they’d tell you not to use
the sound of doors slamming as they leave you
the second trip to rehab (or the fourth).
You just know them showing you
how God, this white rock, goes first
into the plastic cup that is your life so friends,
school, sports, all else (this sand)
can fill the empty space and everything will fit
and how it doesn’t work the other way.
I like them best like this
in jeans, crucifix, collar
at the altar with the children
in a summer camp chapel with no walls
or on the beach, like for my sister’s wedding.
Alleluia we say when Lent is over.
A bright cloth butterfly beneath the Alleluia
on my father’s stole.




Next up Psalm for My Earthly Soul




Photo by Oliver Paaske on Unsplash

1 Response

Erin Kramer
Erin Kramer

February 26, 2020

This feels so real to me, and I love the imagery. You can almost feel the pressure there contrasted with the lightness of the stole.

Leave a comment

Comments will be approved before showing up. We don't allow comments that are disrespectful or personally attack our blog writers.

Also in The Waking

Three Erasures
Three Erasures

November 24, 2020

Read More

Issue 57: Mend Readers' Notes
Issue 57: Mend Readers' Notes

November 18, 2020 1 Comment

We are thrilled to share some hand-picked readers' notes featured in Issue 57: Mend. Be sure to check out our winter 2020 issue.

Read More

My Condolences
My Condolences

November 17, 2020 1 Comment

The girl, whose name I never learned, didn’t die before the song was over, and we never saw her again.

Read More