Miracle

During the second month of the adventure the hour

of our hunger had arrived and we decided to become

an edifice of pious men, innocent supplicants stitched

on the faded wall of ignorance when with a sudden

gleam, as in a rapture, we opened the lid of Aeolus’

bag and let all hell loose: our saints and sins scattered

to the four corners of the galaxy, dumbness and treachery

and moral bankruptcy.

Suddenly I remembered my Uncle Anthony with

his wrinkles and the unblemished smile and it were

as if another rose bloomed in my magical garden.

We evoked our unchained freedom, we broke doors,

fragments of the broken pitcher we gathered, in awe

and reverence we glued a new beginning, the first

miracle, on our faces

and it was good.

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