Forgotten Ground Regained

St. Nicholas

The Man of Myra, making his wayIn a world worn-out · by wayward deitiesCapricious capers, callous and wickedToward the poor, the people of the earth.
Behold! The bishop · has bested the demons!The tolling bell · and the trumpets of the towerScintillating in the sky · as the satanic beingsare dashed down, eating dust as was their doom.
The weeping women · are wealthy and secure.The children are chosen · by this chief of prieststo be consecrated to Christ. Covered in humility,Mitre and mantle · proclaim the mysteryof one who has walked · with the wise,scorned the sectarian · statements of heresy.
Secret in his sacred work, saint of sympathyNicholas the noble, no notion of fearInterposed himself · between executionerAnd innocent, allowing not injustice.
Wonderworker, a wellspring · for the wayfarer stillof healing and of hope. The holy iconpours the Myran myrrh · with miraculous graceon the palms of pilgrims · who praise the Godwhom the heretic-scourger · honored in everything.
Pray for the people, the poor and the passed-over,who hear of heaven · and hold onto hope,Oh Nicholas, do not neglect us,But bring our burdens · before the Lamb.Your blessing we beg, bishop of Myra.
Copyright © Sarah J. Monnier, 2025
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