As I made my way out of the double-bind maze, and called
   “relevance” and “space” out for what they were,
it was Saturday. It struck me as I watched the snow fall
   that we were never entirely forsaken.

Maria Goretti stands straight in knee socks in the cold,
   miracles fit for Baby Tiger, 
as stargazer lilies stand for our unwavering faith 
   and the cut-throat day to day dyes our hair

first silver then white. Out my window, I never see the sun
   but its reflection on the white building between brick tenements.
Once upon a time, when I saw snow, I prayed for a snow day. 
   Now, snow is mercy to the condemned.

I wondered if the snow meant I could trust that the crooked paths 
   could be made straight again in our ethnic enclave,
on the stark parking lot, on the concrete, inside the barbed wires,
   overlooking the colorful shops. 

Snow blankets our vision the way parishioners present 
   Maria with sunflowers to honor her faith.
I smile remembering a client’s hope for all workers
   to receive what they deserve before continuing on my way