Years and years have passed. I cannot write a letter to you.
You will wonder perhaps if I have really moved on. Or worse:
you might not remember me.
I know you are alive. The web tells me so. You must have been
much younger than I thought: you seemed so accomplished, mature –
your words always knowing; your gaze, the tilt of your head gracious,
healing – but it was your ability to name that saved me.
These years have been extremely on-moving ones. I found
my vocation. Again and again. I moved to a different land.
I have searched, seen, lost, loved, listened, learned, died,
revivified. I have made friends and enemies. I have been myself.
Mostly. But what would I have been if I had not had you?
Johanna Caton, O.S.B., is a Benedictine nun and lives in England. She has had poems accepted by online and print publications, including Amethyst Review, The Christain Century, The Catholic Poetry Room, The Windhover and The Ekphrastic Review. She was a 2020 Pushcart Prize nominee.