BEHOLD... THE STORIES & POEMS

Short Stories
Levi Sweeney

The Old Man With His Deeds

The chest in the back corner of the study was made of cedar. That was all Daniel knew about that particular item which could be

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Short Stories
Levi Sweeney

Operation Thrifty

Eight months. That’s how long Dr. Felix Aaronovich’s sister had to live. He had been given the MRI results by his sister’s physician, a young,

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Articles
Newsday

LI Priest’s Healing Words

Msgr. Charles Fink reads the poem “Bury Me With Soldiers,” which he wrote as a tribute to the U.S. servicemembers who served during the Vietnam War. The poem was read at the funerals of Vietnam War veterans nationwide in 2018.

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Poems
Adelaine Nohara

Deep Calls to Deep

“Deep Calls to Deep,” pastel painting. A Soul enraptured by the Divine Bridegroom. © 2022 Adelaine Nohara.

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Poems
Adelaine Nohara

A Life Redeemed

“Purify my Heart,” pastel painting of Alessandro Serenelli, the repentant murderer of St. Maria Goretti, on his knees.

© 2021 Adelaine Nohara.

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Poems
Angelica Del Pilar

The Strength of Catholics

We are called to spread the Gospel-Not hide away from the world-Not to live in a bubble,Only talking to other Christians. More and more ChristiansAre

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Poems
Levi Sweeney

Father’s Farewell

Good morning, creatures of our God and KingI will soon depart my Rocky Seat.But the Bride I serve will still have my ringOne last message

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Poems
Levi Sweeney

Life’s Lament

The night when they said, “The child is a boy!”Perish the day. At least,While at Abraham’s feast,I think they thought that when I left. Was

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– Statue of Saint Thérèse at the Most Holy Trinity Church, Fulnek, Czech Republic. Photo by Radim Scholaster.
Poems
Robéa Nordman

Petitions

Theresa, Theresa – pray for me – here I am on bended knee. A little rose, a champagne toast – waiting for your botanical shower.

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Short Stories
Michael Plock

The Last Man of Advent

In 1959, my father gave me a Toronto Maple Leaf jersey. To this day, to this very hour, I wear it. It was the last

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Poems
Michael Plock

The True Cross

The cross of the fingers
The Cross of the tree
The wood does not lie
To others or to me…

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Poems
Michael Plock

Theodicy

As I walk down the road of Truth, Its gray borderline guide and say, That we are all artists enslaved, Chained from the moment of

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Short Stories
Michael Plock

The Man Who Prayed

A river of trees along a narrow road stood astride a winding stream of pebbles. On a cold and blustery night in December, the Man

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