Sam Broussard
Sam Broussard
Image courtesy of
Daniel Affolter

I Tremble


When Padre Pio would lift the chalice

blood flowed down his arms

I hear the sound of falling drops

echo in these school halls

and I tremble

I tremble


I wanted to bleed just like the good saint

and pray the sick to rise

I dreamed of my shoes filled with blood

when the sick child opened her eyes

and I trembled

I trembled in my dream


oh I trembled

I trembled in my dream

She sways behind her schoolbooks

like Salome behind her veils

Her shoes tap like falling drops

bloody echoes of my faith

I tremble

I tremble


She stands before my office window

Your sun backlights her silhouette

to reveal a form that You denied

or so the old men said


But me I tremble among Your tender lambs

I am no shepherd for Your tender lambs

Copyright © 2007, Sam Broussard. All Rights Reserved. Site by rowgully.