Monseñor Oscar Romero— Today I visited the church of La Divina Providencia where the escuadrón de muerte murdered you. A simple, plain modern church, across from a hospital. On the wall near the front doors, a picture of you marching with the people. Near the altar, a plaque from the Carmelite sisters for the 7th anniversary of your death. That’s all there was of you there… I knelt at a pew to talk with you— I, a Spirit captured in this body, on this earth I do not know if you could hear my thoughts, my words I wanted you to know how your death inspired, provoked so many of us. How there is a Central America Week at the time of your death-anniversary so that we learn about the people, history, culture of here, El Salvador & of other countries, so that we can learn about the actions here of our government, of our country. I wanted you to know that such external investigation also provoked us to look internally at the poverty & repression in our own country. I told you I wish I had the faith you had & the love Many times I find it lacking in my self My self-doubts of all that work all those years But my inner knowledge says As long as the heart, the mind, the soul of one United Statian was touched, provoked, As long as one Salvadoran, Nicaraguan Guatemalan, Diné received a meal, medicine, clothes against the mountain night cold, then the work, then your death had value… After I left, eyes rimmed with the moistness of risen tears, soul quieted with my confessions to you, Monseñor I thought about this poem… As you said mass that day the sacrificial wine became, your blood became the blood of Christ. Your wound—your wound the gun shot … How many were there? How many times were you shot? Where were you shot? You a servant of God, a messenger of the word of Christ, a teacher, an example of love for humanity, became Christ on that 24 March Were the wounds the crown of thorns? Were your wounds the lance pierced through Christ’s side? The blood—the blood your blood that fell upon the altar. Your blood became sanctified in your martyrdom, another martyr for the truth of Christ’s teachings. Monseñor Romero— What were your dying words? Or did the Spirit dove fly swiftly from your Earth-bound body to the heavens? Your body—your bloody body your dying body… behind the altar, before the bloodied crucified Christ… ©2019, Lorraine Caputo
“Monseñor Oscar Romero—
Today I visited the church
of La Divina Providencia
where the escuadrón de muerte
murdered you.”
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