The
monuments of Modernity
Fiendishly
devour the heavens and the earth,
The
giant, hulking masses of steel
And
concrete crushing the historical
Consciousness
of Christianity
Out
of the souls of Western peoples.
Banks,
bureaucracies staffed with busybodies,
And
other behemoth corporate interests:
Grim
and beastly powers governing the world.
Unnoticed
by the compound lenses
Of
their prying insect eyes is a single
Little
flower in Troyes, the maiden
Maura,
the noble-born girl who poured out
Her
wealth on the poor, prayed and labored
For
long hours each day, and purified her soul
And
body with streams of tears. Dead at the
age
Of
twenty-three in the world’s reckoning,
But
alive before God for more than
Eleven
hundred by the Church’s.
When
the West comes to herself and asks St Maura
To
pray for her,
. . .
The rest is at https://www.newenglishreview.org/articles/the-hidden-flower-of-troyes/.
***
A re-telling
of the life of St Maura is here:
https://www.bartleby.com/210/9/212.html
--
Holy Ælfred
the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!
Anathema to
the Union!
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