Frère Jacques

The bell tolls loudly; you realize it is not just in your ears, in your dreams. Shadows, candlelight fading down the hall, along with hurried footsteps. You discern this was not the first bell, but the last. You’ve somehow slept through the other bells.

image: Tina Urso McDaniel 2017

Your head is heavy with the weight of the night’s dreaming. You are being thwarted, tested once again. The content of your dreams is fading quickly, but you recognize the themes. Your soul is at stake. You fumble for the matches, your candle.

You throw your cowl on hastily, covering your shame with your hood, and pace to the chapel as quickly as your feet will take you; so quickly that you must take care not to catch your robe in the wake of the trailing flame which points accusingly, directly back in the direction of your hurrying arm.

You have burnt your hand; no matter. Small penance to pay, as you have made it just before the chanting begins, slipping in the back with barely a notice. You genuflect with extra urgent devotion towards Our Savior that you have won the battle again, with His help.