Welcome to Poetically Yours. Poetically Yours showcases poems by northern Illinois poets. This week’s poet is Paula Coulahan.
Coulahan is a retired Language Arts teacher who tutors in the Rockford Public Schools where she taught for twenty years. She has a B.A. in journalism from Northern Illinois University and a Master of Arts in teaching from Aurora University.
She said she’s found the happiest teaching position of her career in retirement at Welsh Elementary School where she teaches small groups and is the advisor and mentor for The Bulldog Beat, an eight-page tabloid newspaper that is created by fourth and fifth grade students.
Paula has been married to Mike Coulahan, a retired principal and local musician, for 38 years. They have two sons who are business owners and accomplished musicians.
Here’s her poem “The Prayer Grotto.”
I went on a pilgrimage to see
The Fighting Irish football stadium
Because I love football
A stranger opened the door
To the basilica, breathtaking and golden
He showed me to the prayer grotto
Cool and quiet, humble and strong
Fragrant with scattered rose petals
Mystery filled the air
Like incense and cinnamon
Fill the air at
Easter and Christmas
For you, I lit a candle
I kneeled down and
Prayed
That you would be safe forever
I prayed that
Mary
Would watch over you
Always
Then, I didn’t know
The whole story
As 500 candles flickered before me
In the whisper silence
In this place that I felt
Inexplicably
Overwhelmingly
Close to you
And I came home
Returning to the Church
After twenty years of absence and
Grudges
Because they once fired
The gay choir director
And I am not always
On the same page as
Them
Belief is inherently variegated
Our blue moon chance
To be the difference invites retreat
But begs us to hold our ground for
Change
I was raised in a church
With “open hearts, open minds, open doors”
Though nothing is perfect
So, now, I forgave
I asked to be
Forgiven
In my thoughts and in my
Words
Because we all need
Forgiveness
For different reasons
We all need comfort
In a place where our burdens
Can be taken from us
And washed away
Like the rain washes dust
From the grotto, mixing with rose petals
