MS (8.4.1929 / Marton, Lancashire)

Laughter As Salty As Tears

Her laughter is as salty as tears
From toiling in the salt pans of this city
Not many people could be like her
Relying on salt to fill her daily bowl
So whenever she walks into someone's life
It is with a gesture of bringing new savor
Like a finely made condiment shaker.

With her companions she used to pour out wild words,
That shuttled through time, leapt epochs of history;
The soul-flights she made were worthy of pride
Because with every youthful step she took
She looked beyond sharp stones of suspicion,
And skipped over the roadblocks of ill-will,
But over time the earth-energy of such things
Did so much damage to tender feet
That her road at mid-slope
Felt like a carpet stuck with pins.

Some countrymen haven't gotten their fill
Of attaching themselves to absolute authority,
So Jesus has now become their new guarantee,
But she drank in Bible stories from age three
Like milk of human nature to feed her sympathy.
She embraced the calling of secular nun
And never failed to keep Jesus in her heart,
But watching Christian culture taken to extremes
Helped to sharpen her sense of surreal irony.

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Comments (2)

Excellent, Michael. This reminds me of Solzhenitsyn's premise that the only really free man is the one in prison. hmmmmm Raynette
Very nice Michael!