“Don’t drip your blood on my Jesus sandals…”

Here is a poem called “Vietnam, U.S.A.” that I stumbled across in an issue of the Holy Cross Quarterly devoted entirely to the Berrigan Brothers. Can we not hear ourselves each whispering the final line of the poem any time prophets confront us with the reality of U.S.-sponsored violence?

VIETNAM, U.S.A.

The land is screaming
Dying or worse than dead

Earth, bodies,
minds, souls
in twisted agony

War-torn like the land
and desolate

While the politicians politic
and Marchers march
and the man-on-the-street yawns.
War? What war?
Berrigan? Who the hell is he?

Hey, cool it, Dan Berrigan!
Am I my brother’s keeper?

My peace badge is my pacifier
as I sit in the sun
emoting over coffee and guitar –
(Somehow, their screams bear less pain,
set to music)

No use crying over spilt life . . .
Hey, cool it, DAN BERRIGAN
Don’t drip your blood on my
Jesus sandals.

– Sister Mary Rose Conley, RSM
[Holy Cross Quarterly, Vol. 4, No. 1, January 1971]