Castle of the Saint

For my first english literature Professor

“If from the very earliest years, a child is instructed in both religion and letters, it can be reasonably hoped that his life will be happy.”

Tall towers, long shadows,

echo of footsteps on cold stone.

At the threshold, a child waits,

glass eyes, faith alight.

The bells toll his name,

Saint Joseph Calasanz,

hand outstretched in the breeze,

light that writes upon the city.

Rome dreams in white letters,

thousands of children, voices of chalk,

an old slate, a new miracle,

the school opens like ash.

An eye lost, an eye found,

a vision burning in the mist,

a century dancing in golden smoke,

a living lamp in the darkness.

Jesus in every notebook,

footprints in dust and paper,

the Castle of the Saint endures,

centuries beating in its skin.

-ER

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