Campus Blessings
I bless myself in the name of unsharpened pencils
And student interns running late.
I bless myself on sun-facing blue Adirondack chairs
With stickers that read, “I belong to Duke.”
I bless myself with the five-o-clock Carillion
And the Wednesday warning siren over the campus loudspeaker.
I bless myself with the knowledge Duke Hospital is 1200 yards away.
I bless myself with kisses from Quad dogs and yellow patches of grass.
I bless myself with Zweli’s beef stew, the pipe organ, and blossoms from the cherry tree.
I bless myself with footsteps on the see-through stairs in the West Union,
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As tour guides speak too softly to wanna-be freshman and parents praying for financial aid.
I bless myself on the walkway to the Bryan Center,
Passing clubs raising money and noon lunch baggers.
I bless myself in the parking garage, with cold concrete levels named “Magnolia” and “Azalea.”
I bless myself in early evening, trotting down Science Drive,
In lockstep with students, flowing from the Law School and Fuqua School of Business,
In crop tops and baggy jeans, toting messenger bags and sneakers with oversized soles.
I bless myself in my little red Prius, past the gate as the wooden arm rising in benediction,
Releasing me to the flow of pilgrims on 751,
All the way home.
(This poem was inspired by Pádraig Ó Tuama’s poem “Untitled” in the book KITCHEN HYMNS.)
— Amy Spaulding (Durham, NC)
