The Lords Calling.
This Coronavirus does not discriminate
Between the low sinner or the high saint,
For those shown the fickle finger of fate
Some truly believe they have reason for complaint.
In one Michigan nunnery the book tells a sad story,
Despite many a rosary rolled and crosses kissed
Thirteen nuns have been prematurely called to glory,
Thirteen unlucky brides of Christ, sadly missed.
A life of bending the knee to help fallen mothers,
A life where the Good Book is unfailingly right,
A life where sinful pleasures are reserved for others,
A nuns life is black and white and buttoned down tight.
Nuns who’ve spent many long years serving the Lord
In the hope of being taken- eventually- up to Paradise,
Vows of poverty and chastity for only promised reward?
Does ones poor grey short life seem one hell of a sacrifice?
Let us hope when one is consigned to earth
That ones belief remained eternally strong,
And let us pray, for what it’s damn well worth
That ones last thought ain’t ‘Jesus, was I wrong?’
(I do feel for the loss; Though I may not believe I can hope their belief is not misplaced.)