All through her life, nature had been for Madeleva "beauty's self and beauty's giver." Through it, the divine revealed itself in natural ephiphanies:
Can I not find you in all winds that blow,
In the wild loneliness of lark and plover,
In slender shadow trees upon the snow?
This poem suggests that her prayers had gone beyond words; apparently, only silence could express them. If simplicity, in prayer as in life, is a sign of maturing sanctity, then Madeleva's inner life would seem to have deepened through the years.
Peace is not made through theory. Too many people die in war. This grief, this pain can still be felt. No matter how loud one cries, this way no peace can be achieved. The flowers of the meadow, the small insects have life. Each life has to be respected; Where else should peace come from?
