Santos y Milagros: A Song for the Sacrament of Living

What are these charms by my door,

this crystal hung in such a random place,

this blue and white disc like an eye,

this black rock gleaming in its darkness,

and the old Greek icon in chipped gold leaf,

the menagerie of silver santos and milagros

blessing each coming in and going out?

These are talismans

and who knows if they work;

But what is superstition

than a bet

hedging against loss,

and tradition

but a way to honor our fathers and mothers

who gave us what we have today?

At the very least

these are my everyday magic

reminding me

that home is a precious place

a space to protect as precious

from the dark forces

of stress

and clutter

and an unintentional life

lived

without appreciating the miracles

of running water

and constant shelter

and light that appears 

without even a word

The saint of a kitchen

that makes hot tea

and burned sugar

and steaming platefuls of communion

so that all who are hungry

might take and eat

The bright baptismal

of my shower

and the toilet that takes away all my filth

and the sink

where my hands

are made clean anew

so may times each day

The chapel of my porch

where I read and pray

where I

like so many

observe all the handiwork of God

spilling from pots

and marching like red jewels across the steps

and I am astonished

for the beauty of the earth

and the glory of the skies

And the soft holy of holies

of my bed

where my body

rests and heals each night

and where I am rapt

in the glory of passion

with my beloved

and the prophecy of dreams

This is home

My home

And its banner over me is love