To Saint Anthony of Padua on His Feastday
Tony, Tony, turn around, something’s lost and must be found. –Traditional Catholic Prayer
I won’t ask you to “turn around,”
even if sometime today
I lose something which must be found—
a tautology? It’s your day to relax,
take some time off from our relentless
petitions, searches for car keys, cell phones,
wallets, pets. If I lose
anything today I’ll let go of needing
to find my ambitions, my weight-loss program,
my deadlines, my childhood.
Fiery preacher that you were,
you’d probably tell me to let go of even more—
curious, no one recalls your pleas for penance.
But here in the depths of the library today
I’m surrounded by your legacy,
said to be promised by the Poverello himself,
to lead all those enshrined here, scholars
who’ve probed great mysteries in study.
The caveat: not to lose
the spirit of prayer
and devotion.
Will you help me find that, Tony—
tomorrow?
8 thoughts on "To Saint Anthony of Padua on His Feastday"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
“the poor one’ – love that (stealing for my notebook)
sounds like the opposite of a ‘sunday xstian’ 🙂
You’re welcome, dustin; the “Poverello” is a common way we refer to St. Francis of Assisi…
I love the idea that Tony gets a day off……”tomorrow”
A graceful poem.
Thank you.
love how the tightly women poem builds: honoring his day of rest from our all too recognizable petitions, your vow not to call on him or do penance but to follow St. Francis in studying St. Anthony’s legacy, to asking for the one thing not to lose, tomorrow. love the project of writing poems in response to the lives of the saints
Beautiful poem I loved it’s meditative sense: “Fiery preacher that you were,/you’d probably tell me to let go of even more—” wow!!!
A little 6 year-old-girl taught me this when i was frantic to find something: “Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony please come around. Something is lost and needs to be found.”
What a delight to see you give St Anthony a day off on his day and go deeper into a richer call:
Fiery preacher that you were,
you’d probably tell me to let go of even more—
I love the ending this poem takes me to!
Beautiful reflection. Love the caveat.