The Rose In The Room by Jeff Callaway

The Rose in the Room

by Jeff Callaway

Texas Outlaw Poet

I knelt with beads between my hands,

A pilgrim bound by small commands—

Thirty-three petitions, whispered low,

Each intention a seed I sow.

I called upon a saint that night,

The Little Flower crowned in light;

I begged her pray beside my plea,

And lift it up to Calvary.

Yet mid the Luminous Mystery’s flame,

A wandering thought unbidden came:

“Is she in Heaven, far from here,

Or does her presence linger near?”

And then—a tug upon my shirt,

So soft, so sudden, yet so sure,

A sign more real than any word,

That in that room her soul I stirred.

O Thérèse, who in silence grew,

In Lisieux’s cloister, hidden from view,

The youngest child of a faithful line,

Marked from the start by Love divine.

A mother lost to Heaven’s keep,

A father whose prayers ran deep,

She learned in sorrow’s early days

To tread the narrow Little Way.

At fifteen years, her heart so bold,

She sought the Carmel’s quiet fold,

Where sacrifice through hidden deeds

Became the song her spirit needs.

No mighty feats, no martyr’s pyre,

No crown of gold, no world’s desire—

Her holiness was small and sweet,

Each humble act laid at Christ’s feet.

“To pick up pins for love,” she’d say,

“To smile when trials cloud the day;

To love, to suffer, and forgive—

That is the hidden way to live.”

Her life was short, a fleeting breath,

A flower cut by early death;

Yet on her lips a vow was made,

Before the final light did fade:

“I will spend my Heaven on earth again,

Showering roses where souls have pain;

No gate of glory will hold me tight,

I’ll walk with the weary through the night.”

And now, when prayers feel weak or worn,

When faith grows tired, and hearts forlorn,

She draws beside us, unseen, true—

Sometimes with roses, sometimes with you.

That tug I felt was not in vain,

It bore her promise, soft, unchained:

That saints are nearer than we know,

And love’s small seeds still bloom and grow.

So let us walk her Little Way,

In quiet love from day to day;

For Heaven bends to earth once more

Through every soul who dares adore.

And when the night is dim with fears,

Her voice still whispers in our ears:

“Do small things well, let mercy start—

Christ finds His kingdom in your heart.”

~ Jeff Callaway

Texas Outlaw Poet

© 2025 Texas Outlaw Press