Saint Francis and the sow

A poem by Galway kinnell that I absolutely love….

The bud
Stands for all things
Even for those things that don’t flower,
For everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
Though sometimes it is necessary
To reteach a thing it’s loveliness,
To put a hand on the brow
Of the flower
And retell it in words and in touch
It is lovely
Until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
As Saint Francis
Put his hand on the creased forehead
Of the sow, and told her in words and in touch
Blessings of the earth on the sow, and the sow
Began remembering all down her thick length,
From the earthen snout all the way
Through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,
From the hard spininess spiked out from the spine
Down through the great broken heart
To the blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering
From the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking
And blowing beneath them;
The long, perfect loveliness of sow.


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