saints of diminished capacity
I can’t remember now who I read or heard say the phrase “saints of diminished capacity” (I thought it was Nadia Bolz-Weber, then today I found this book.), but it has stuck with me, and has been a poem I keep coming back and revising. Here is the 2020 version:
saints of diminished capacity
the phrase on the page requires me to infer tone to decide if the poet implied quotation marks --“diminished capacity”-- or “saints” for that matter . . .
either way, the phrase is fragrant with failure infused with impairment struggling stumbling to find a hint of hope that failure will not be the final word
my knees ache with reminder of diminishment every time I stand up but I stand anyway a heart hobbled by grief knows comparison offers no comfort I am still capable of great love
Peace, Milton
