They imitate the way you sneeze and tie your shoes and
cut your food, so please, if for no other reason, eat your
peas and brussels sprouts; and when you hold your head
high, when you scan the sky to find your polestar, they
look
up there too, not knowing why, not yet. Your steady
temper teaches them serenity; it readies them to make
their way above the petty and the mean and not get
muddled over seeming versus substance, which is why they
trust that everything is as it needs to be in the reality
of
here and now. And so you chart your course on higher
ground, not only for their sake, not just to see the sun
come up and gild the valley till it can’t contain the
light; it’s
where the road to paradise begins.
The prophet says: You are beyond forgiven. In the
morning
comes
the splendid grace that lifts you up, scrapes off the
blemishes,
and takes away the sting. And
isn’t that (you ask
rhetorically) the Gospel, and
the promise kept?—All things
are possible; all souls have wings.
***
