Giotto got it wrong.

I was not kneeling

on my red satin cushion

in a shaft of light,

head slightly bent.

Actually I had just

Come back from the well.

Placing the pitcher

on the table I bumped

against the edge

spilling water on the floor.

As I bent to wipe it up

suddenly a glow

as though someone had opened the door

to the sun.

Rag in hand,

hair across my face,

I turned to see

who was coming in

uninvited, unannounced.

All I saw was light bright

against the wall.

A voice.

You will conceive

the Son of the Most High

who will save Israel.

I stood afraid.

Someone closed the door

And I dropped the rag.

Killian McDonnell

Benedictine monk USA

In The Tablet 19 march 2011