Edith Stein ~

Was it Edith Stein he saw,
The dark figure in the throng
Treading lightly, gazellelike,
On snow
With head erect but blind,
Seeing nothing, being drawn only
Toward what looked like a bower,
Though oblong,
For nuptials, Merton thought,
Far down the yard
From where he stood watching.

Whereupon he hastened to follow
But was barred by guards with dogs
Who ripped the cowl off he wore
In search of the star
She had pressed
Into his palm while passing,
Her nod saying
She needed it no longer
For it had guided her
To where her Lover was waiting.