Holy Site

Let steam of copper pools take dust and grease
And leather sharpened edge scrape clean this skin,
That I might gain Assisi’s gated path.
 
For crusades’ sultry wanderings have come,
With all the ghosts, proud soldiers’ steel, to loss.
Jerusalem relent to sword’s extend.
 
I wish now only for your holy songs,
To fall on knees that lips would taste your praise,
And tongues, your crown, in exaltation raise.