St.Boniface in the Tenderloin--repost

I used to have another blog through the Bay Area Writing Project, but it was cancelled some years ago and all the blog posts were lost. The Gubbio Project had seen a poem I had written, asked for permission to print it and later posted on their blog. I herewith share it:

St. Boniface in the Tenderloin

Jesus doesn't smell of beeswax,
plaster statues, or polished wood.
In this Franciscan church,
Jesus smells of unlaundered clothes,
of smelly socks,
of sun-dried perspiration,
of soiled shoes, of urine and used underwear.
He smells of last night's dinner,
of stale beer,
of cigarette smoke and marijuana.
Here one smells poverty and weariness,
one smells not enough sleep
and lack of privacy,
and one smells the great, humble efforts
of pride and human dignity.
My mouth fills with sweetness
for the smell of God envelops me.
There is no need for incense
to carry my prayers to heaven.
God is here. 

February 9, 2004

© Hector V. Lee