Smells of Good Food
Truth never frightens.
I remember once walking out in the winter
to greet my father as he returned from work.
He was a little late that night
and I waited by a street corner near our house.
The cold can enliven thanks, my wool coat
became a sacred robe, how happy I felt to be alive.
I waited in a world of magic, smells of good food,
the street lamps, the smoke coming from chimneys, the candles burning in windows,
Angels feasted, as I did, on existence and God kept saying
“Have more of what I made.”
I saw him coming. We ran into each other’s arms
and he lifted me as he so often had—
twirled me through the air,
his hands beneath
That is what the Truth does:
lifts and lets us
—St. Catherine of Siena