Giuseppe


Giuseppe the man, is a friend of mine.
He tells me much about how we make with wood.
In turn I point out where to draw the line
Where certain things can be said to be good.
The two of us jumped on that special chance
To do a tall prayer box and as it should,
Bend the elbows, the knees, and so enhance
The pilgrim's purpose, in her long journey
Towards the pinnacle of moral balance
Where faith transcends earthly hegemony.

Giuseppe reminds me of Jesus,
The carpenter who fills my memory.
He seeks above all a moral consensus
On the need for economic restraint.
He speaks in allegories and plain verses.
Puzzles they seem, unless you are a saint.
He deals with wealth and the way it must move
From those who have it to those who must paint
In the rooms, the formula, which doth prove
Who placed the meal on the dinner table.

Solid, ingrained, twisting a rustic groove,
It's ready for the feast and the fable
Whereupon Jesus invents the Eucharist.
It's there to take if mine will be able;
To turn water to wine, ground corn to grist,
And then offer these things to the priesthood.
I look one minute then next clench a fist
As the nail rams the bone into the wood.
Giuseppe! As I take your weightless hand,
Tell me! Did we not do all that we could?

Bevagna, 24 3 2008