Poem February 26, 1977 Issue

CANA

Betty Reiss

How did he change the water into wine?
"Mine hour is not yet come," he said.
Has mine?
Will compassion and understanding fill my dry washes?
Will the blind see?
Can I be certain of my own innocency?

Unshod, perturbed, before some burning tree,
I turn at sound of name and say, "Who, me?
Give me a sign," I plead, but
there shall be no other sign.

How will He change the water into wine?

Betty Reiss

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Satisfying Our Cravings
February 26, 1977
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