Sebastian

FOUR SAINTS

SEBASTIAN

He stands alive, yet pale

And self-withdrawn

As ice congealing, through which his eyes

Of light explore,

Translucent and dissolving as

Surrounding forms

Recede idolatrously between the trees:

And yet this Ecstasy!

The captive arrows caught as though

His hand had burst aside

To turn them in mid flight, guiding their

Sweetness stinging to his flesh,

As these

Were nesting bees which disturbed

In angry swarms

'Would settle, making his hive their home:

Twisting, he fulfills

His precious martyrdom; the arrows

Thrust from two sides

And meeting simply cross; his bowel

Contains His agony;

He must toss, impaled within,

Suspended on the stake,

Yet borne aloft by His own Crucifix:

Miraculous, this stake:

Buried deep, its hand-hewn butt

Must root or rot

Scalded with great blood;

Twig, improvise green leaves above,

Shield from the sun;

As if his heart would flow, thrust forth

Through stake, the bud

Surmounting

Heaven there to cling, a tiny tendril

Climb, and flower:

And his own clear youthful face

Shining, bathed in the radiant Light.