Box of Bones

It’s All Saints Day and, as I
stand in the cold light of
the sun, an olive-skinned man
a block away wearing a
red-color plaid jacket holds
his arms out like the crucified
Christ. He stares at me, then
crosses the street. I wave a
short wave- but he keeps
staring with outstretched
arms, giving me creepy
thoughts about saints.

Is a saint like this leafless
tree with its red crabapple
fruit frozen tight to the lifeless
limbs-outstretched-refusing to
Let go? What would Saint
Therese of Lisieux think as a
macabre crowd walks by her
bones stuck in a black box?
Let her go! She promises to
love us with roses
from heaven!

Dorothy Day - don’t dismiss
her so easily! Let her go
and love the Jesus in the
tabernacle and in the red
plaid jackets! Want to
honor a saint? Honor those
who irritate you the most
because you will enter the
march most quickly loving
those children of God than
in the honoring of saints in
boxes. Open your arms and
pray for one another and
when you lower your hands,
I’m sure you’ll find a rose.

(Dar Hurni 11/1/02)