St Francis and the Sow

I needed this poem today and plan to keep it close in the next little while 

so thought I'd share it here, too.

Saint Francis and the Sow
By Galway Kinnell

The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don’t flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
as Saint Francis
put his hand on the creased forehead
of the sow, and told her in words and in touch
blessings of earth on the sow, and the sow
began remembering all down her thick length,
from the earthen snout all the way
through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,
from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine
down through the great broken heart
to the sheer blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering
from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking and blowing beneath them:
the long, perfect loveliness of sow.

May we all be assured 

(and reassured and retaught if need be) 

of our beauty. 

May we gently lean 

into the flowering of self-blessing 

from our "creased forehead" 

all the way to the "spiritual curl of [our] tail" 

and into our "great broken heart" . . . 

.              *             .