Our Lady of Mercy High School Drama Club
Rochester, New York 1969

Seats empty, silent as gravestones,
except for the one where the sister sat,
a lone nun gazing up at our circle, her habit, a shroud
around her as our nest of uniformed girls was bathed in a light,

that illuminated freckles, blemishes, our blushing necks as we gazed back
into the darkness from the stage above her, felt the hard planks under
our feet, the quick flutter of our 14-year-old hearts
as her voice echoed from the cavern beyond

�Make a sound like an animal then move around.� I made my way
to center stage cawing, flapping thin arms,
kicking up my feet, willing myself to sprout wings,
that loosened, trembled at the edge of flight,

as my tense fingers flitted, grew claws, my feet released
their grip and I felt myself almost taken up into the air
my quiet breath almost carrying me when I heard
the voice again plaintive now bereaved,

�Sometimes its important to share the stage with others.� Tagged
as the sinner I knew I was, newly christened as the worst of the worst,
a show-off, I stopped flapping, my feat grew leaden, the caw vanished
from my throat. Stripped of my wings no longer able to throw myself skyward

this freedom of the air dissolved in me as I took my place in line
and left. But after a year, her refrain faded against the pulse
of my desire. Became a faint off-key note I stopped
listening to as I scribbled my name on a list one day

returned to that darkened shell, climbed up on those wooden boards,
with new eyes watching me. Eyes that were seasoned as a hawk's,
the eyes of a man with a collar, a father, a Jesuit priest,
from across town, another sinner,

a guest director who smoked, peeked up at me from under his tilted fedora
handed me a small, yellow script and said �Go ahead�
who listened closely to the low coo of my voice as I read, saw
a fire of spirit catch flame in me as I trembled, loosened,

a uniformed girl, taking flight, spreading
her wings, circling the stage
finding the light,
to land right at its center.