Blessed John Paul II, Poem by Fr. Edward O.P.

Bl. John Paul II

Ordinary Time: October 22nd

At the community Mass this morning, having Blessed John Paul II in mind, we prayed for one fearful of hospital diagnosis.

----Forwarded Message---- 

From: Fr. Edward ....
Subject: So many matters 

Oct 21 at 6:48 AM

Dear Father Donald,

I thought to send you this poem.

. . .

I am trying to translate the poem into Polish (via Google translator) but I cannot get it to work. There will be Poles present at the Mass tomorrow night. I thought to get one to correct the translation. Have you Polish help?

Blessings from

fr Edward

End of a Stykkisholmur Novena to Blessed John Paul

Prophetic leaves  showed

the direction and strength of the wind.

Pope Paul VI died in the Papal summer house

of Castel Gandolfo.

Expectations opened out.

To my Cambridge Brethren

before leaving for Rome

I said with conviction,

“The Church needs a totally sure moral leadership”.

but with long experience of Italy and the Church in Rome

Father Kanalm was self-sure enough to reject my candidate

who was the Polish Primate, Cardinal Vyshinski.

“A Polish Pope, Edward? Totally out of the question!”

They elected Cardinal Luciano, Patriarch of Venice.

He had written a few catechetical orderings,

and had addressed the thoughts of his soul to figures dead and living:

G.K. Chesterton, Ste Therese of Lisieux, Pinocchio,

designated together as “Illustrissimi.”

But he smiled and spoke from the depths of conscious heart-warmth,

and he chose the double name of John (in honour of Blessed John XXIII)

and Paul (in honour of Paul VI).

I arrived  in Rome for the enthusiasm of his last General Audience

with the incidental boy-scherzo with Danielo.

Two days later he was found dead in bed;

his finger nails pierced the sheet of paper he was reading (so Father Magee his Secretary),

indicating a massive stroke from which he died instantly.

Like a champion runner he passed to his successor

a relayed torch of optimism and joy.

At his funeral in the Piazza the heavens wept rain

from a grey sky, and a solitary displaced pigeon

circled the scene and disappeared.

I had heard the masons’ hammers fashioning the tomb below the Basilica floor.

The Cardinals deliberated;

the winds of hope were tangled.

One of our Sisters - Catherine - was a typist at the Secretariat of State.

Archly she broke silence and said,

“They’re saying at the Vatican!” (the atmosphere electrified; normally she kept silent)

“the next Pope will be called John Paul ...”.

And so it was, and when presented from the  balcony he said

“and with the help of Madonna sanctissima”

the hearts of all those present were swept clean and pure by his self-consciousness;

it all augured powerfully well.

Nearly martyred in the Piazza, his assailant’s gun jammed,

but from our Grottaferrata community

Sister Letizia Judice grabbed with force the back of his jacket,

and the Carabinieri moved quickly to take him into custody

as the Vatican ambulance, “going like the clappers” said il Conte Ambrogio, my friend

(it nearly knocked him down),

and a surgeon saved his life at the Policlinico Gemelli.

He moved quickly to become a World-Pope:

not only an Italian, not only a Polish Pope.

though his Polishness was not suppressed.

He released on the Catholic Church and the whole world

the unshakeable conviction  that he was a man to be totally trusted.

Conscious of the force called into play,

he worked continually, his soul finding the charisma

within which he must pray, preach, speak and act.

Helped by an equipe of thirty priests he ran the Church

with charity and energy.

That Polish smile took on the experience and undisplayed anxieties:

so many documents,

so many sermons,

so many decisions,

so many travels.

The world knew him and he knew the world that knew him,

raised in heart and mind to the intensity of heaven

as an offering, holocausted and immolated on the altar of Saint Peter’s

and innumerable world altars on his visits.

Until he, the great preacher, could speak no more,

and must resign himself to enter the Father’s house.

Where, apotheosised, he shines in ever growing glory

where we must follow within the power of his tumultuous praise.

Stykkisholmur

20 October 2013

Fr. Father Edward O.P.