Wednesday, July 22, 2009


He does not mind
That fellow-workers use up his peanut butter
Though he provides it out of his largess (which is not large)
And they are better off than he.

He does not mind
The coarse language of the workshop
Nor the demeaning labour of humility (which is humbling but not edifying)
Nor the lack of recognition

His love for them
Though it flows not from his heart
But through his heart from God
Compels him to smile
To laugh at their poor jokes

His compassion
Which arises not from his understanding
But from his submission to the will of God
Compels him to listen
And to murmur encouragements

Not that the doors of his heart
Do not swing almost shut
On the colder days
And not that his small pride
Does not sometimes raise the hope
That one day his incorruptible corpse
Will smell of violets.

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