To Catherine, Kneeling – a poem by Kristi A.S. Gomez

To Catherine, Kneeling

On two works,“St. Catherine of Siena Invested with the Dominican Habit” by Giovanni di Paolo 

and “Catherine of Siena” by Sigrid Undset


Could wise Augustine and meek Francis—saints, too, 
but this errant thought intrudes—be slightly miffed 		
when you, exchanger of hearts with your Gesù, 
gently decline the tempera-rendered gift
each holds aloft? Augustine, stern and hoary,
looks heavenward. A stranger now to worry,
he takes the pass in stride. But Francis still seems
hopeful, like he’s entertaining certain dreams. 			

Dominic himself has unsure eyes. In spite
of your extended arm, verging on a yes,
your near-floating form suggests impending flight.
I think he’s picturing when Christ leaned to bless
you from atop San Domenico. No room 
for irony, but did his namesake-church loom
large on the periphery as he rushed down
with his black cloak to your holy, broken town?

*

Once called “Euphrosyne,” you suppressed disgust
at weeping sores, nursing terminally ill,
ungrateful patients, meanwhile rebuffing lust
and temptations sent to test your faultless will
in perfect fires. One woman you cared for		
had pus and other unspeakable human gore
from cancer ravening unchecked through her breast, 
and you, in self-chastisement, contritely pressed

your face to her disease-ridden chest. I must 
confess a touch of empathy at this stage
in your biography for the cold mistrust
your patient showed thereafter, failing to gauge
your pious purity as real. When she let
reckless words drift into calumny, regret
not gripping her just yet, you made no complaint;
maybe you’re not a relatable saint.

* 

But these darts, Caterina, you also bear.
Fingers brushing the fringed edge of the lilies,
you give the waiting saint your fiat, and wear
the contrapuntal habit. What ecstasies 
and agonies are to come, you don’t yet know.
Before Rome beckons, your cup will overflow
with princes and prelates bent on worldly wins,
the prying and possessed, souls mired in sins. 

Di Paolo doubles you in tone: pale and warm
and dark-drawn with thoughts of what lost shepherds need.
The crucifix you kneel before gives form
to pain that adumbrates the trials and greed
you’ll circumnavigate with legates and boors:
They knew that you wanted no part of their wars.
“Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love,” you wrote the power-blind.
Your Lord asked for all. And No never crossed your mind.

Kristi A.S. Gomez has a BA in Creative Writing from Pepperdine and an MA in Literature and Publishing from University of Galway, Ireland. She had poems published in both university publications and was a finalist in the Catholic Literary Arts 2024 Advent Poetry Contest. She has been a corporate-world and freelance editor and has taught poetry classes to homeschooled students.