Poems by Brother Ollie: the Tired Monk
Oh I can see and hear him, tired monk, humming. Beautiful, Ollie.
It is hard to be the last one sweeping, and even humming oftentimes cannot take away the exhaustion of it all!
It has to feel quite sad to know you are one of the last.Perhaps the value is not seen in it as it once was,and that carries a sting as well. There is also the feelingthat this might be lost. I watched a tv show this summer on monks in Tibet, and their shrinking order. It is notin your hands.
a lonely monk humming...nice...
That's a beautifully painted picture..
The tired monk all so lonely. Giving the final touches to his job! But still unperturbed being left to do it alone!Hank
I love the spinning dust and the soft songs. Poor lonesome monk!
something so simple can bring such peace.
I think the detail I find most poignant is that this monk is one of the last. That says something of endurance, commitment but also sorrow.
Silence... in the absence there is their presence :-)I always enjoy your writings.ZQ
Such a profound piece :D
Perhaps, there is silence and peace in being the last one singing in those inner chambers of the heart.
There is a peaceful quality about a task like sweeping (for me it is weeding) as life is suspended and the air is still and we are just humming along.Donna@LivingFromHappiness
The humming of the songs changes the feel of this somehow..the cells maybe empty and the halls lonesome but i wonder if he truly minds that?
A quick scene with so much brought to mind in a few words.
This reminds me of a weekend I spent with a Trappist monk at his hermitage in south-central Missouri. He was keeping a lonely vigil: saying mass alone most days, working around the grounds of the retreat center he hosted. When he was with guests he was the perfect, cheerful host. When he was alone he was the perfect, cheerful hermit.
I love (and have missed) your comfortable soothing words. I have been away too long...Anna :o]
Thanks for helping with the development of Olsonomics.