There is a story behind this particular sonnet, and it all began with a discussion about the lenten reflection by Father Barron on Rose windows. As we were talking about it, both my sister and I were talking about how God seems to be in the process of rearranging us and our priorities. As I reflected on it that night as I was trying to sleep, the last line of the poem came to me, and I just had to finish it out.
The Rose Window (Sonnet #2)
He searches the debris with studied care
A little red here, that small shard of blue
And snatches each fraction with Love's bright flare.
Others He passes, darkened hues untrue.
Shattered, I survey the scattered ruins
Even as He picks through colored scraps.
My pride seeks full redress in illusion,
Not aware jilted flaws will cause relapse.
He smiles at my folly, still searching through
The fragments of my plans, hopes, wishes, dreams.
His hands never waver--His stance shifts the view--
And points to the specimen he redeems.
The partial rose window hold me en masse:
We shall be God's masterpiece in stained glass.
|One of the main Rose windows in the Cathedral in Leon, Spain.|