Thursday, December 6, 2007



by Sackvill

A jeweler
told me the
nub that looks
like golden
wax in a
holder on my
gold crucifix
hides a relic.
It was a gift
from a close friend. I treasure it.
But when I learned it held a fragment
of bone from a saint or martyr,
I struggled with revulsion.
Soon after he told me, I bent over while
setting the table for dinner. My crucifix
dipped in front of me into a glass of water.
I snatched the glass away and
washed it while
I tried to
surmise why
this unknown
saint or martyr
had died --
Aids, some
ancient cancer,
bubonic plague,
torture? I'm used to
having the relic now.
I feel as if I must
guard it carefully for
I feel a special quality.
It conveys comfort
to me like some
mother's drops of
blood in an old
fairy tale.

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