Saint Boniface – a poem by John Muro

Saint Boniface 
Sometimes at night, freed from penance,
I close my eyes and drift towards sleep
Awaiting the slow spirals of stardust 
And droplets of light that emerge from 
Darkness and coalesce to form 
Crenellations above some ornate,
Oriel window, inset with leaded 
Panes of carmine, Pyrenees green 
And chalice yellow. Colors settle 
Then soon abandon glass and dissolve 
Beneath a gilded asp, blending with
Air and into body now rising beyond
The plane of altar, the velvet nest of 
Tabernacle and the furrowed pews 
Worn to the hue of brown harness 
As I watch a younger self cradled 
In prayer and sowed with sorrow 
Waiting on the brighter hope and 
Splendor of sun piercing plumes 
Of incense and illuminating
The arched, stained-glass window 
Depicting a solitary child in a field 
Necklaced by a brook and a gnarled 
Tree twisting up towards heaven, 
Blue leaves dripping, sky still bearing 
The sacred scars of falling stars.

A life-long resident of Connecticut, John Muro is a graduate of Trinity College. He has also earned advanced degrees from Wesleyan University and the University of Connecticut. His first volume of poems, “In the Lilac Hour,” was published in October 2020 by Antrim House, and the book is available on Amazon. He has spent most of his professional career serving as an executive and volunteer in the fields of environmental stewardship and conservation.  John currently lives on the Connecticut shoreline with his wife, Debra Ann.

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