Relics

I saw the dead

With bones of straw,

Falling from the sky like ashes.

They said, "Our lives have set us on fire,

And the earth demands we come home."

I saw the wounded

Stealing the bones of the innocent

With closed eyes and mouths on fire.

An angel said, "Beware the poverty of the perfect--

Only in blood is the gift contained."

I saw no point

To such high talk.

I said, "I am cold,

And I feel alone."

It was then that I saw Saint John Bosco out walking with his dog,

And arrayed all around him like a cloak

Were the flock that no one wants,

The Children of the Night.

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