Abba Moses the Robber the Black

I'm back, and the saga continues. :)  

X

I survived temptations,
the battering of Satan
on my mind and body.
Once four men came 
to my cell to rob me.
I beat them down,
dragged them back 
to Sketis for judgment.


I am a penitent.
It would be hypocritical
with such a past life
as mine to be the final
judge of these men.
I place them in your hands.


Moses, this is another test
you have passed.


I looked at Abbot Isidore.
The bound robbers
looked at me.
He is that Moses who was
the greatest, most feared
of thieves?
The abbot and brothers
standing there nodded.
If God changed Moses,
perhaps God can change us.
Crawling up to the abbot,
allow us to stay with you.
Confessing their polluted
lives, they too became monks.

XI


Years of spiritual struggle,
walking the graveyards of sin
in my mind, my hair
turned white like a spring cloud.
I became a priest.
One day I was called.
The issue was a brother who
had committed a great sin.
Theft, ran away, and a woman.
Sketis' only material wealth
stolen, a golden bowl.

In my madness for her,
the bowl was taken
I ran off to Alexandria.
My conscience and my
vows forced me back.


Paul, what do you say?
Alexandros, what do you say?
Michael, what do you say?
Dionysus, what do you say?
On and on.
Moses, what do you say?


I say I will leave and
come back after awhile.


In the back of the monastery,
a large basket.  I cut 
a small hole in it,
filled it with sand,
hoisted it on my back,
went inside.


This basket contains my sins
that are multitudes.
They trickle out and I 
cannot see them.
Now you ask me to judge
someone else's sins?


The brother was forgiven.


XII

Abbott Isidore awaken me early.
The roosters barely began crowing.
Come Moses with me to the roof.

Father are you preparing to toss
this old sinner from there?

Now Moses!
He grinned and lifted a skinny finger
in chastisement.


Yellow, orange, blue bands
scrolled on the horizon.
Brother Moses, the rays
of the sun creeps in
and slowly melt away the night
starting a new day.
The same way with the
contemplative life.
Trials like stormy seas.
It creeps into a life until
eventually the perfect
contemplative is born.


XIII


I am an old man now.
I feel my age for the first time.
I am thankful for the work
God weaved in me.
A man feared and hated,
led seventy bandits,
to a man respected and loved,
the spiritual father of 
seventy monks.
A new man.
The coin had flipped over
to its better side.
Only God's love and my
silent suffering and shame
could perform such a change.
All pride was destroyed and
erased in a spiritual sandstorm.
I felt humbled.


(To be continued)