Monastery in my Heart Poem

My very dear friend, Mary, who I first met almost a decade ago when we were both being formed as religious sisters, has written and shared with us a poem about how, after leaving the convent, she found the monastery in her heart. Below is her biography followed by her meaningful poem.


From Army public affairs to convent life to marriage and motherhood, Mary Rose Kreger’s journey has been filled with twists and turns. Wherever she’s journeyed, she’s always been writing stories. She lives in Warren, Michigan with her family, writing about teens who battle with swords, and memoirs about the wisdom we only gain through experience.


Mary is currently revising a young adult fantasy novel, Avalon Lost. She also shares faith-based poems and fantasy quotes on her Instagram account, @faithandfantasy1.




Monastery in My Heart

By Mary Rose Kreger

Once outside the convent

You still long to be inside it

The white curtained walls

The ancient creaking floors

The silence and the song.

He drew me in and I followed,

Hungry for the final Word in treasures—

His secret gaze pierced me, pleaded silently:

Come.

I left everything to find Him,

My home, my job, my family—

Stepping out of the boat into the deep waters.

In return, He gave me the Cross,

That bitter cure-all for a thousand ills,

But also a taste of Heaven.

19 months in His garden, and then He says,

“Go home and tell your family all that I have done for you.”

And so I do. I go home and tell of

The white curtained walls

The ancient creaking floors

The silence and the song.

Six weeks later, I meet James,

The man whom I will marry

Whose birthday is Christmas like

The First Beloved of my heart.

We work and we play, we talk and we pray.

We are married, find a home,

Have a son, then a daughter—

Make friends, lose friends.

Die a hundred tiny deaths, and

Rise a hundred times again.

We share our lives together.

The Lord makes us new—He kisses me

With James’ touch, and embraces me with

Lukie’s arms, and gazes at me

With my daughter’s eyes.

He still wants me, even if His rose was

Never meant to stay in His convent garden.

No, rather to struggle and labor

In this world, pretending to fit in

When my heart has been spoiled for anything

Save Him.

On the outside, endless motions,

Movements of faith, hope, love—

And grit and survival, too, for this

Long journey is hard.

On the inside, a tiny-heart-home,

Always longing for the white curtained walls,

The ancient floors, where I first saw Him.

There, I tasted heaven once—

A darkness that was Light—

And I can no more return to my

Heathen ways than a child to her

Mother’s womb. I tasted heaven once, and my

Heart is ruined for anything else.




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