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The Danger of Pretense

The wind ruffles a blue windsock,
slowly—it gathers the courage

to kill. I do not know
the nameless man, loved by God,
whose wife will die in the storm.

Where is the mercy? The stars
do not console the wounded,
nor the sandman the young.

The hills?
The rocks?

Why, even the storm invites our trust.

Are we a people
apart from the fury?

Today I walked around a patch of violets,
planted together in the yard,
tranquil, beside the rocky path
where their purple belongs. Perhaps
the flowers felt the peace.

I do not know.

Perhaps there was one, off to the side,
that I did not see.

First published in Domicile

“Pray, hope and don’t worry. Anxiety doesn’t help at all. Our Merciful Lord will listen to your prayer.”

— Saint Padre Pio

**

“Free me from evil passions and heal my heart of all disorderly affections, that being healed and well purified in my interior, I may become fit to love, courageous to suffer and constant to persevere. Love is an excellent thing, a great good indeed, which alone maketh light all that is burdened and makes all that which is bitter sweet and savory. The love of Jesus is noble and generous; it spurs us on to do great things and excites us to desire always that which is most perfect.”

— Thomas á Kempis

 

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