Today is the feast of Saint Joseph. Here, in our blog Agora XXI, we wanted to celebrate the day with the following poem.
WHEN YOUR DREAMS ARE NOT YOUR OWN
What do you do
When your dreams are not your own?
Does that make them more true?
Even though your own dreams
Fall apart?
The news turned my heart heavy
What I must do was plain,
my dreams scorched by anger and pain.
Yet, although my heart was heavy,
it was not cold.
And then a strange dream
And I let it all be
And now here I am…
With them at my bedside,
His hand in mine.
We recall the days he´d watch me work
Not dignified, but gave dignity
And daily bread.
And he had so many questions that
I´d wonder how could it be that
He be He.
Questions about life;
Who am I to be giving answers?
A simple life I sought,
thus was my dream.
Or so I thought.
And now here I am so
far from what I dreamt.
My dreams interrupted by
dreams I did not dream.
Now, as I lay, knowing these are my last,
He tells me I will be remembered
For humbling obliging my Lord in the past.
And I am taken back to when we fled
When I was told to put aside fear and dread
Though I do not understand
I will do the best that I can…
I will trust
You, Lord.
I must, Oh Lord.
For these dreams are not mine
By faith I will trust
Until the day that I die,
I said, Oh Lord.
Then and until the end,
Oh Lord.
And now, here am I, Oh Lord.
My little man,
holding my hand,
only now can I understand:
My dreams have come true.
Image: St. Joseph and Baby Jesus by Jason Jenicke. jasonjenicke.com
