Burning - Poem

National Catholic Reporter, Dec 3, 1999 by Nancy J. Nowak

   I think of Hopkins burning all his poetry,
   the leaping flames in the fireplace,
   his words, his thoughts in smoke, the look on his face
   to see gray ashes in the orange glow.

   I wonder, did he weep, and did he know
   that he would ever write again, and grace
   would find him, even in his lonely place
   where all the winds of winter seemed to blow?
   How could he know warm breast of Holy Ghost
   would find the poet there and offer him
   bright wings, and in the dawn windhover Hot
   would come in blazing light, compelling him
   to praise with voice the One who dwells inmost
   and give us then that gift, his resonant hymn?

--Nancy J. Nowak Spencer, Mass.