Saturday, October 10, 2015

Of Thy peace

Of Thy peace

Make me an instrument of Thy peace,
o Lord, Saint Francis suggested.

I feel that way often - like an instrument.
Not of peace, certainly;

of chaos, incongruity, surreality.
More precisely, I feel

like a delicate, precision instrument
wrongly calibrated from scratch;

a faulty circuit, perhaps, a cracked cog;
a sprung spring, a warped wheel

throwing me chronically awry; failing
to read and measure correctly

the world around me;
out of balance, forever teetering,

up and down, up and down.
Hard to be happy with constant failures;

a consistent missing of the mark;
hard not to worry, to be peaceful

with the invariably failed readings
of my inadequate, roughly self-adjusting equipment.

O child of God, if it was easy, what a lazy,
complacent, good-for-nothing scoundrel you would be!

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