Self-Portrait as Furloughed Cathedral Tour Guide Pondering the 14th Century Anchoress
By Donna Vorreyer
I think of her as I wander from room to room in my blue bathrobe, this anchoress who was always alone. Now that I am home, her story lingers, one I recited as I ushered visitors through her reproduced cell. She survived the Black Death, its scourge and stench, bore more than enough weight for one life. I would think she would desire only sweetness— green fields starred with thistle, spheres of milkweed luring butterflies. Instead she chose a cell with no exit, silence and stone. Three windows for her triune God. At least she chose it. Here at home, the weight of my own solitude spreads like a yellow bruise. I haven’t showered for days, but since she rarely bathed at all, I’m good. Authentic. She penned pious revelations about the Lord while I scribble lists and binge The Young Pope. Close enough. I know she was revered as holy, as close to God as one could get, but surely she missed the heat of touch, the lock of fingers intertwined, the key of them unwinding. Surely she wept each time the priest intoned Hoc est corpus meum pro vobis—this is my body, given for you. A body without touch cannot be certain it exists.
Donna Vorreyer is the author of To Everything There Is (2020), Every Love Story is an Apocalypse Story (2016), and A House of Many Windows (2013), all from Sundress Publications. Her work has appeared in Rhino, Tinderbox Poetry, Poet Lore, Sugar House Review, Waxwing, and other journals, and she serves as an associate editor for Rhino Poetry. Recently retired from 36 years in public education, she can’t wait to see what happens next.
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