Jp Ii Saint Now
You were God’s athlete, horst of the Tatra’s ridge -
salt of Earth.
Some tried to kill you, as they killed saint Andrew Bobola
and you were mortally wounded.
Your blood was spilled with suffer,
but you never quit till death.
You kissed the soil, dirt of Earth,
upon visiting every country.
God came to you in the vision.
You knew as humans – every part,
dignity to all of us you gave.
With death your work did not expire.
Miracles only are required
and Heaven has them all – saints of power.
© A. R. Wielgus 2014
Copyright © Art Wielgus | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment