Affection for Catholic Nuns

Because there is a Catholic nun for everything,
for every unexpected calamity there is an order.
Franciscans, Dominicans, Benedictines, Carmelites,
Barnabites, Gasparians, not to mention the beautifully
worded orders such as Our Lady of Charity of the Refuge,
Daughters of Mary of the Immaculate Conception,
The Poor Clares, Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus,
Daughters of Divine Love, Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy,
and because the orders appear endless, one circling
behind another like glass beads in a rosary.
Because when in full Habit they remind me of zebras
the black and white simplicity of their decision
etched into their clothing; because the black 
and white seems a way in which they can tell you, 
That is bad, and This is good;
because they have a direct link to God 
and, so, youre supposed to believe them.
Because they wear a circle of purity 
to cast aside all others for God.
Because of Nunzilla, a wind-up toy, 
which while marching about also spits out sparks.
Because my first rosary made of prism beads
was given to me by Sister Mary Frances,
who wore full Habit and had very tiny feet.
Because some nuns can fly.
Because when I was thirteen, when other girls
were carefully considering other boys, I wanted
to be a nun; I wanted to live a devoted, secular life;
I wanted to pray in a garden, green and ripe with living.
Because they embrace poverty believing simplicity
is a handhold to God and because, I think, theyre right.
Because they marry God, walk down the aisle,
in white, cut off all their hair, they go to God
without vanity, wear a band of gold like God
is a real husband, one that takes out the trash;
because, I think, God lays down with them at night,
cradles every nun against his heart, holds them
in his mouth, whispering out all their fears,
and leaving them in the morning when he hears
the bells calling them to prayer. 

© Heather Simeney MacLeod