blessed.

i walk into the quiet halls where you are buried

find God's mercy,

His love.

i did not know what you meant to my family

i do now.

i do now.

and Father Casey-

it seems every catholic in the city has a connection to you,

a wellspring of devotion

for the porter who healed.

what must people think?

we kneel beside your bones,

foreheads against the carved out wooden box.

yet-people understand reverence for the dead

but father-the closer you get-

the more we see how alive you are.

i write down all the best of my intentions,

the closest to my heart,

fold them up

put the little white sheet on top of the violin carved into your casket,

ask if you'll say hello to my little brother for me.

i only have a moment for these things,

but that day,

that one where smiles were so big

and hearts opened wide.

that day i will never, ever forget.