an ode to Saint Christopher

Oh Saint Christopher,
you herculean wolf-headed protector
of travelers,
and legendary healer of the sick

I know, that being neither Catholic
nor Baptist nor Buddhist
nor any kind of garden-variety 'Christian'
(despite my adulation of Christ,)
  that not being Hindu nor Rastafari
nor Pagan nor Taoist nor Jew,

that believing
in the virtues of certain "sins,"
and putting little stock in
anything defying or transcending
the laws of nature and the cosmos
(not laws of man and 'science') :

Yes, it's very true
that it might seem odd for me
to write an ode to you

But I'm feeling weary these days
as if the river of modernity
(with all its noise, machines, and neon lights)
might sweep me away;
I was in the gift shop of a hospital
and(out of courtesy for her time)
I bought your pendant
from an old lady volunteer

But, honestly, it's not just your charity
but your primitivity I revere
(being by legend
 a wolf-headed Arab
the size of a water buffalo...)

I'd love to befriend you
and other animals and animal-men,
as well as that animalian part of myself
I've usually put on the shelf...
and hope that by doing so
I can become
more gentle and "Christian"

I heard the Vatican demoted you-
but the truth is your calling has swollen hugely
in this new international pantheon...

For, we are Swedes and Brits
in the U.S.A.,
  Jews in Jamacia,
Thais hidden away in sweat-shops
in the remote Northern Mariana Islands
(where clothes are "Made In The USA,")
Mexicans harvesting Oregon crops,
and tribal apes crafting spears
and baskets of silicon

The whole world is on one airplane:
"sane" Christian scientists
and "insane" philosophical Gaiiasts,
Australian junkies drinking mushroom teas,
Phetchaburi's rice farmers and elephant-worshiping Buddhists,
canny university-educated Aboriginis,
those who log and those who hug trees,
polite old Brits and samurai Japanese,
Jews and Palestinians seated uncomfortably together

The "fasten-your-seat-belt" light is on,
(outside the wind is blowing with lightning might
the Kyoto storm clouds
 are frightfully black with neglect):
the nuclear run-way
is so long since crossed

We're all travelers now
on this Planet Earth...
every man woman and child
to be by and by
guided and mystified
by your great wolf-headed star