Monday, October 16, 2017
The Mythical Saint Speaks––poem by Dorothy
The Mythical Saint Speaks
Frankly, at this point
I am not sure
whether I existed
or not.
I was someone who lived alone,
prayed a lot,
made friends with the birds
and the other animals.
Once at midnight an angel came
into my room,
filled everything with light.
I was no stranger
to rapture.
After I died
the stories began to be passed around,
miracles in places I had
never heard of,
healings of people
I never knew.
They wrote about me
in books,
put up statues and paintings
in holy places
where people knelt
in awe.
I miss the trees
and the birds.
They were with me then
and even now
I sometimes hear them singing nearby
when I sleep.
Dorothy Walters
October 14, 2017
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