Had I the soul of St. Francis
I would open my hands, hum my praises,
and you would come nuzzling beside me,
all your wild fears soothed in a touch.
Had I the sinews of Ulysses
I would sneak upon you by the sea, clench
tight through the terror of your changes,
until you melted into my mastery.
Had I the will of Jacob
we would meet in the dreamy night
like gods ourselves, grips locked, face to face,
and not let go until the blessing came.
Soul, sinews, will? I have them all,
in this my psalm, this my sinewy scheme,
this my grip on shadows and dreams.
Now bless me.