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Historic photographs of The Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and Church of Our Lady of the Rosary.


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An Evening Gallery of Loss

We see them each night:

Faces lopped of life, like flowers

cut from their stems, gathered and bouqueted for us

In a silence without drums, without taps.

Beautiful. But gone. Beguiling us with smiling faces

That can no longer smile, nor know our tears,

Or hear the laughter of all the love they might have had.

They reach, with their eyes,

For a future no longer on the other side of the lens

That holds them, indifferent and cold;

We long, as lovers do, to hold them in a warmth

That might have thawed the ice of that steel-jacketed

Hate which took them from our sight.

We watch, most of us, with a distant pain;

Not that of wives, or mothers, of fathers,

Or children who will never know the safety

Of a now only-remembered hero’s arms; a hero

Who might have been their ‘mom’, and now

They watch, through reddened eyes, their fathers cry.

  Harold Buckley
March 2006