The house at rest

On a dark night

Kindled in love with yearnings —

Oh, happy chance! —

I went forth unobserved,

My house being now at rest.

– St. John of the Cross

How does one hush one’s house,

each proud possessive wall, each sighing rafter,

the rooms made restless with remembered laughter

or wounding echoes, the permissive doors,

the stairs that vacillate from up to down,

windows that bring in color and event

from countryside or town,

oppressive ceilings and complaining floors?

The house must first of all accept the night.

Let it erase the walls and their display,

impoverish the rooms till they are filled

with humble silences; let clocks be stilled

and all the selfish urgencies of day.

Midnight is not the time to greet a guest.

Caution the doors against both foes and friends,

and try to make the windows understand

their unimportance when the daylight ends.

Persuade the stairs to patience, and denythe passages their aimless to and fro.

Virtue it is that puts a house at rest.

How well repaid that tenant is, how blest

who, when the call is heard,

is free to take his kindled heart and go.

Jessica Powells (Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit)