Dear God, I have no time.
Amidst all the work I have to do I am overwhelmed.
I pore over my to-do lists daily to strip out the un-important and the un-urgent.
When I walk my legs strain to swing faster as I snort sharp clouds into the cold air.

“I have no time.”
If I had time would that mean I could hold it,
like a child holds the mushy slush it gathered as crisp snow,
or a mother holds a baby and wish it will never grow?

No, I know that it must flow.
And then I realise that our time is short.

Repent for the Kingdom of Heaven has come near-
Timor mortis conturbat me.
May he judge your people with righteousness and your poor with justice-
Quantus tremor est futurus, Quando Judex est venturus.

I was told for there to be peace we must have an end,
That for us to see justice there must be a judgement.
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Will I have enough time to build myself a shrine out of my own will?

But then I realise that our time is long.
You, O God, you are the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end.
Your abundancy has given me this very breath and moment to steward.
And only you, Lord, who have set the limits of this earth know when my time on it is done.

So yes, my time is short
To do the work that you have for me to do.
The workers are few,
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Lord, who has the victory won, I am sorry
For thinking that your timing was not good enough for me.
Would you make me attentive to everything in store this day.

Angela Eichhorst ’22 is a sophomore in Dunster House studying Comparative Religion and Classics.