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August 2012 || Volume 2. No 1

August

Silent wood

I listened to the wind.
It was silent.

I looked at the valley.
It was void.
I looked at the sky.
It was bare.
I flew on the wings…
An angel accompanied me.
I kept talking with him.
His reply was a long pause.
I wanted to fly like a swift.
His grip on my wrist was firm.
I alighted upon a rock.
It was ice cold.
I sniffed for its smell.
It smelt like a wound.
I found there in the gray light…
The biggest wound I’ve ever seen!
I t was hard to believe…
They call that wound, "a crucifix"!
I met with Francis…in tears…
It was San Damiano!

Fr. Joyson OFM Cap

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