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Friday, December 17, 2021

Poem: "Joseph's Suspicion" by Rainer Maria Rilke

 The angel spoke to him and took great pains

to reach the man, whose hands were tightly balled:
“But don’t you see that in her every fold
she is as cool as God’s own early morn?”

Yet back at him the other darkly stared,
muttering just “What’s made this change in her?”
But then the angel cried out, “Carpenter,
you still don’t see the working of our Lord?

Because you make wood boards, would you, in pride,
really presume to call him to account
who unassumingly from that same wood
makes boughs burst into leaf and blossoms sprout?”

He understood. And as he raised his gaze
toward the angel, truly frightened now,
it wasn’t there. Slowly from his brow
he pushed the heavy cap. Then he sang praise.

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