Our Lord is a Dancer

In the dimly lit cloisters, Sister Agnes begins to sway, her wimple loose and habit tossed. She worships Him, the dancing ghost, who pirouettes through stained-glass light, his cosmic ballet filling the night. The nuns spin and sing, their rosaries transforming into ballet shoes as they chant joyously.

Sister Martha leaps and twirls, a vision of sacred swirls. Sister Mary, unbound by vows, does the splits. Even the Mother Superior joins the throng, dancing with the crucifix held high as a baton. Laughter reigns in this abbey, where faith and fun have unchained themselves. Together, they worship the dancing God, a holy treat.