My
Lost Saints
by Mary Redman
by Mary Redman
Jude,
the patron saint of impossible causes, waits
in
my shoulder bag. His ceramic image clothed
in
robes of cream and green, a walking staff in one hand,
a
frozen flame affixed to his forehead.
I
pull his five-inch likeness from its nest of tissues, lipstick,
and
chewing gum, turn him over to pull a coiled paper slip
from
his hollow insides, inscribed with the carefree wish
of
a sixteen-year-old girl. I’ve come to trade that wish
for
a prayer—I whisper a bargain to God and Jude—
to
spare my father’s life.
A
nurse beckons. I follow past the waiting room chairs
to
his dim bedside—alone, perhaps to say farewell.
Fear
wells. Here my childhood’s potent guardian lies
powerless,
enmeshed in a network of tubes and wires,
pinned
against a white hospital bed, set at an obtuse
angle
for his comfort, or the nurses’ convenience.
His
looks betray unthinkable pain, little awareness
of
my presence. Eyes ringed in shadow, half-shut
by
sleep and drugs, he stares dazed from a putty-colored face,
and
mumbles through dry lips meaningless sounds. I wonder
what
to say and swallow panic. As he struggles, insect-like,
he
stretches gray lips, chapped and tight, tries to speak again.
Don’t
cry, I tell myself as I clutch the figure of St. Jude. Finding
it
a
lifeless object made of clay, I turn to leave the room and drop
About
Mary Redman:
She is a retired high school English teacher who currently supervises
student teachers for two local universities. She is an active member
of the Indiana Writers Center and has taken classes with the current
Indiana Poet Laureate, Shari Wagner, and with poet Kyle Craig. She
has had poems published in Flying Island and participated during
2016-17 in the fifth Religion, Spirituality and the Arts, an
interdisciplinary arts seminar directed by Rabbi Sandy Sasso. Mary
also volunteers as a docent at the Indianapolis Museum of Art and has
volunteered as a Starfish Initiative mentor for the past four years.