Saint Lucy

Saint Lucy

Sometimes we have to 
Be like Saint Lucy 
Who, to reject her suitor 
In favor of her savior, 
Plucked her own eyes out 
Because they were his 
Favorite thing about her. 
When she refused to worship 
The image of the emperor, 
He ordered her to 
Be taken to a brothel 
To be defiled. 
But the guards found that 
They couldn’t move her. 
The strongest couldn’t 
Drag her even an inch. 
They chained her wrists 
To a team of oxen 
But the ground boiled up 
Under their hooves. 
They tried to burn her, 
But the wood wouldn’t take.
Out of ideas, they slit her 
Throat like a chicken. 
Laying her to rest 
In the family mausoleum, 
Her eyes were found 
To be in her head again. 
Sometimes we have to 
Be like Saint Lucy 
And refuse to be taken 
Where they want to take us,
And if they think 
Our eyes are bright 
Because we’re looking at them, 
We have to dig them out 
Like two white radishes,
Cold in the hand and
Hot on the tongue.