I did not have to make the pilgrimage to Chimayo to get the Holy Dirt. I wrote about this pilgrimage March 29th (Good Friday) on my blog. This dirt was a gift from my daughter who went to the sacred church El Santuario. The "dirt" is found in a room known as the "pocito" (well) and this spot is considered holy because in this spot the crucifix of Our Lord of Esquipulas was found by Bernardo Abeyta in 1810. Since then thousands of pilgrims and visitors have come to El Santuario de Chimayo searching for spiritual, emotional and physical healing.
It is here believers can reach down and grab a handful of dirt. It's widely believed that the soil is blessed, and can bring miraculous results to ailing believers who brew and drink the dirt (like a tea), or rub it on diseased parts of their body.The wooden replica of the church is in the photo, The roof comes off and the sacred dirt can be placed inside.
There are certain invocations that are to be said before rubbing the holy dirt over the part of the body that needs healing. I am saving some of this dirt for Bella. Next week she is scheduled for some surgery and perhaps this will help her recovery.
Ralph Fletcher is a master poet. Each line in this poem is compact and with few words but conveys a lot of meaning.
Hungry for Poetry
First I saw him chew
a tender Japanese haiku.
He ate a foot-long sonnet
with mustard seed spread upon it.
He downed a bag of ripe cinquains
while walking in the pouring rain.
He gulped an epic, chomped an ode,
wolfed a couplet to cure his cold.
He munched so many limericks,
they made him absolutely sick.
He tried a plate of fresh free verse;
but all that did was make things worse.
He took some onomatopoeia
to cure a case of diarrhea.
He ate a poem of sixteen lines,
and after that he felt just fine.
Poetry tip of the day from poets.org
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