relationship
The Leper's Song
Those rich boys sing and dance
in their blessed holy poverty.
They leave behind the brocade patterns
for humble tunics in simple tatters.
The rich boys, they live with us
in a preferential option for the poor.
We, we are their mentors.
We, we are their doors.
How we love them and protect them,
for love, it is the lore.
The rich boys feed us food.
They wash our sores.
They wipe our tears.
We, we watch their moods.
We see tenderness and fear.
How they love us and protect us.
This kind of love, it does sear.
If this song seems callous,
and on our pain does transgress,
if the rich boys seem narcissistic
then you are twice blessed.
The rich boys sit with us
in unseemly poverty.
We, we are their mirrors.
We, we are their keys.
Don't hold your hand in protest
you are no leper, no blessed boy.
Lady Poverty is not that simple
our blessed Francis rightly guessed.
Don't hold your hand in protest
You are no prisoner but are free.
Your jailer is not outside you
as we can plainly see.
The rich boys and the lepers,
we dance hand and hand.
In moments there is wisdom.
In moments life is grand.
The rich boys and the lepers
a fierce embrace we do avow.
Yes, appearance is deceptive.
Appearance is a ruse.
Flesh falls quickly from all bones.
Life has its basic rules.
Take off your wonderful notions.
Grab your partner hurry quick.
We have only this moment in time
for our fabulous famous magic trick.
Don't try to add this up.
It is subtraction you must do.
One and one embraced does not equal two.
Holy Madness
