to receive the skilled words of a priest. This one
shines with the serenity of clear purpose
and of certainty.
Something composes him, elevates him to
levels of knowing that I should not question.
He draws upon deep reservoirs of wisdom
that must, surely, be
beyond his experience, at twenty-six.
I’ll grant that he’s a decent, virtuous man,
but his sure, complete and perfect certainty
is what troubles me.
His rejection of all possibilities,
except the truth he holds, is illogical
and, in other circumstances, might be dubbed