Holy Spirit

By Patrick T. Reardon


Holy Spirit (in caps),

aka Holy Ghost, aka Paraclete.


With Father and Jesus = Trinity. 


In art, dove,

like the one that left the ark,

came back with green twig,

like dove over the Jordan

and the water over the Son.


The beloved’s eyes in Song of Songs

were doves.

Before wolves, “innocent as doves.”


Dove = peace.

Not eagle, warrior of the air.

No meek sparrow.


Aka Giver of Life, Breath of Life, 

Wisdom and Understanding.


For Father, think Cosmos, all Nature,

Big Bang to atomic geography, overarching.


For Jesus, a guy you could meet.


Holy Spirit = sweet inspiration.


Dove = flight,

a flittering, ignoring gravity, riding breezes,

always whispering,

the still, small voice, the gentle breathing,

the soft itch of silence that Elijah heard.


Aka Comforter.


Dove = insight,

wonder of surprise.


Dove, sometimes called she.


Patrick T. Reardon



This poem was originally published by Calla Press on 4.1.22.

Written by : Patrick T. Reardon

For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.

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