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"Our Chair" by Chris Sedlmeyer (a poem about the Little Flower)

alec vanderboom

“Our Chair”

Simple wood, woven seat
Simple wood
woven seat
worn light on one side
on the right, where she slid in to sit and write
and slid back out again
to sleep at night.
Silent chair
If you could speak
Would she chide us for the trinkets that we keep
Our pedestals and plaques
Scraps of paper
Bits of cloth
And all the framed odds and ends
Of a saint held in awe?
Humble chair
Wooden legs
That bore the weight of her Little Way
You would know better than I
What she would say.
How she longed to be a hidden heart,
Just another anonymous nun
Asleep in her father’s arms.
Not a saint in a shrine
But a name unheard of
Just a woman of simple acts of trust
Made holy only by her Savior’s love.

by Chris Sedlmeyer

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