Photo by Ravi Pinisetti on Unsplash
The Flight Attendant
Stay in your seats
and remain calm.
I am sure St. Bona of Pisa
said the same things afloat
when leading crusaders
to the Promised Land.
As a saintly attendant, I hope
Bona was not patted,
accidently, on her ass
by the drunk in first class.
Storms tossed her Mediterranean voyages
as well as my flights soaring
35,000 feet above the waves.
For me, cruising altitude
is miles above the ground
but it was mere feet
atop the water for her.
I pray for safe passage each time
I board the plane,
and a quiet ride
and comfortable shoes.
I like having a saint
looking out for me,
my crew and passengers.
Each takeoff and landing
has its own short prayer:
Stay in your seats
and remain calm.
The Librarian (for Betty, Betsy and Irene)
All librarians have
at least two patrons
among the saints, but
I would not wish either St Jerome
or St. Catherine of Alexandria
on my bookish best
– too much drama!
Every librarian in my life
was devout, foremost in the love
of their true patrons, the regulars
and the newcomers, the fresh readers
hearing their first “Goodnight Moon”
and the seasoned veterans
in the mystery shelves looking
for the Burke, Deaver or Sandford
they may have somehow missed.
This day, the librarians’ hours
are filled with waiting, wanting
nothing more than a little noise
in the stacks, perfectly ordered
but pandemically empty.
Some librarians in my life
had a special love of putting
Just the right book in a young set
of hands. Others loved the words
themselves, not one word
but all words,
messy and knotty words,
flowing prose and poems deep,
undersea voyages and space journeys,
real and imagined, the face of war
and triumph, family sagas
and heroic struggles.
A patron saint may be useful, however,
when taking on the forces
of rigid orthodoxy, the haters
of different, those who would ban
or burn books. My world
expanded and exploded
when librarians unlocked
the doors, the shelves replete
with places where we can go
if we choose,
again and again and again –
learning new things each time.
I want a star in heaven
for each and every librarian,
each a patron saint
in his or her own right.
The days can be dark,
but the books shine on
because words matter,
can enflame the mind more
than this soul can say.
The Lighthouse Keeper
As the roiling waves
strike and ring these dark
stones, these unyielding
glacial shores,
I pause to imagine
the eyes of my father.
Before my tenure,
he tended this light,
taught me the ways
of the rock-strewn beach.
St. Venerius, I must admit
my desire, my desire
for more –
young, I dreamt
a city lit bright
enough to banish night.
But now, this rock
is mine,
and mine
alone, and with it
the widest horizon,
an unending expanse
of crashing blue,
the incalculable sky of stars.