Friday, March 07, 2003

On Her 7th Birthday

For the impertinent poetess honored below, I did this about one year later. I apologize to the experts for metrical irregularities, some of them intentional for effect, others, no doubt, the result of putting off the composition until the night before. I could re-work it, but for some reason want to preserve it in the form she received it. In any event, she loved it. At least she said she did. I got a big hug.

For Elizabeth, on her 7th birthday


Saints have suffered torments to savor
Some remnant of what you, by God's favor,
Possess with ease. Upon the thorns of the rose,
To slay an urge of which no child knows,
Brother Francis impaled himself. Better to receive
Than to give God, through sin, some cause to grieve.
And so birds took rest upon his shoulders
And vipers left their sun-baked boulders
To lie at his feet with wolf and fawn,
While at night he prayed to raise the dawn
On this shadow of Eden, where creatures wild
Found man and woman harmless as a child.
For you and Francis the world keeps its wonder
In beauty and menace, sun and storm, blue sky and thunder.
By the least offense your heart is pierced,
Your forgiveness following fast and fierce.
For these days that will not come again
You cherish no grief; for what might have been
You have no remorse. Between faith and despair
You have not by the world been torn and tossed;
No need yet to beg a child share
Some portion of what she should never have lost.
And so, little one, come close, stay awhile,
For in you I have found no tempered guile
Worthy of the name; but yours on an angel's breath
Is whispered worthy before God, Elizabeth.


------------------------------------------
Love, Daddy

Posted, Mar. 7, 2003




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