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St. Joseph, you who know the silence of the night, the thickness of its dark that presses down mind and heart, keep me close. You who knew the size and shape of doubts and felt its sharp claws tear your mind. You who walked under the crushing weight, keep me close.
You who knew the haste of flight, and who felt the thousand fears that the slightest noises bring, keep me close. You who knew the desire, burning bright like flames, to put between you and those who pursue the frontiers of time and space, keep me close. You who drank the cup of exile and loneliness and tears within the holy silence of your heart, keep me close.
St. Joseph, who died in the arms of the Lord, and so in death were within Life, tell me the secret of its night, and how far it would be for me to travel from death to life; and will you make the journey with me? …
St. Joseph, man of strength and wisdom and silence that speaks so loud, teach me to bear all wrongs in silence deep. Teach me to slacken my loneliness that cries like a child, night after night, at some hidden and holy stream.
St. Joseph, I know you understand these things, the hunger and the dream: the hunger that no one it seems feeds on earth; the dreams a woman can never share with anyone on earth. You understand. Keep me close!
Excerpted from Journey to the Heart of Christ, (2013), pp. 354-355, available from MH Publications
