Saint Patrick
a slave returned freely across the many bridges burned restored to designs far more divine, while love as green as well-rained ground under saintly foot walks innocent of destination for mere joy of following ahead of the ever-echoing call. Patrick-- displaced person par excellence, at home in any field with some three-part shade of shamrock— his shield is his sword and speech his Lord: embodied freedom. The land of his captivity is promised and emerald and alive in a sea of ancient tides that rise and rise and fall like all emancipations faithfully with eyes fast and far on horizons out of reach of conquest. Yet never does he rest from his endless work always and everywhere to bless.
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