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 © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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