I Want New Saints by Mary A. Bowen in WomenPsalms
I want new saints
saints with birch-tree souls
whose leaves turn colour and fall
whose cruel winters freeze their
naked branches.
I want saints with sunrise eyes
whose Springs awaken sweat-sweet fertility,
musk lusty,
played out on sodden sheets,
whose golden Summers bake
their bodies brown.
I want angry saints,
with molten wills,
who squeeze their carbon hearts
in rage and
bring forth diamonds,
weary saints
torn by countless beatings.
Saints who make
extravagant mistakes
and laugh,
certain that, more than perfection,
Godde desires truth.
May we find truth today and clothe ourselves in its glory.
I want new saints
saints with birch-tree souls
whose leaves turn colour and fall
whose cruel winters freeze their
naked branches.
I want saints with sunrise eyes
whose Springs awaken sweat-sweet fertility,
musk lusty,
played out on sodden sheets,
whose golden Summers bake
their bodies brown.
I want angry saints,
with molten wills,
who squeeze their carbon hearts
in rage and
bring forth diamonds,
weary saints
torn by countless beatings.
Saints who make
extravagant mistakes
and laugh,
certain that, more than perfection,
Godde desires truth.
May we find truth today and clothe ourselves in its glory.