SAINT JOSEPH, THE JUST MAN

 

In the quiet of the house, where the adobe whispers,

rested the man of wood and palm,

his face serene beneath the infinite gaze

of the Son who once gave him life.

His soul ascended,

like fragrant incense,

and the peace within him echoed eternity.

His hands, worn by the weight of time,

were entwined in silent prayer,

like roots seeking the deep earth,

close to the dream of eternal love.

In them, the sweat of truth;

in his fingers, the pulse of a God made flesh.

His eyes, two gentle flames,

bore witness to a boundless love.

In his chest beat the peace

that flowed from the breath of creation.

And in his gaze rested the echo

of all the centuries to come.

He, the just man, the guardian of the Word,

under the humble roof of Nazareth.

Beside him, the Virgin,

who guarded each step with tenderness,

her hands full of life’s sweetness,

her soul a fulfilled promise.

The Son, the Savior,

rested in her embrace,

while Joseph, in silence,

knew that the weight of the world

had rested upon his shoulders.

Remember, Joseph, the roads of old,

the journey to Bethlehem, the guiding star,

and the flight in the shadows,

where dreams became voices that saved.

The tent of linen, the humble poverty,

the angel whispering in the silent night.

A simple man,

his heart filled with faith,

yet his eyes open to the divine mystery

that dwelled within his home.

And in the workshop, the hammer rang,

the crackling fire sang its hymn—

the hymn of sacrifice,

of a life lived for another,

of a soul that chose the shadows

in service of the Light.

The bed grew heavier,

Joseph’s breath slowed,

and the angels, unable to hold back their joy,

gathered at the threshold,

almost touching his soul.

The Virgin looked upon her husband with infinite tenderness,

the Lamb lifted His gaze,

and in that moment,

the glory long awaited by Heaven

became tangible.

—“My father,”— spoke the Son,

“your justice has paved my path,

your faith has upheld the very foundation of the earth.”

And Joseph, his voice trembling,

answered the Son of the Promise:

—“My Son, my glory is your gaze,

my life has been a witness to your light.

I am but dust,

yet in You, I found my everything.

You have been my purpose,

and my offering is your will.”

Joseph looked, one last time,

at the light streaming through the window.

The sun rose in its strength,

and a deep peace covered the room.

The heavens opened,

the radiance of the Holy Spirit filled the chamber,

and a choir of angels sang in his honor.

Joseph, the foster father,

the man made great in his humility,

fell into the sleep of the just.

And as his soul ascended to the Throne of the Lamb,

glory wrapped around him like a resplendent mantle,

and all of Heaven, in its magnificence,

proclaimed him the protector of the Holy Family.

Saint Joseph, now glorified,

was seated at the right hand of the King,

on an eternal throne,

greater than any crown,

whose brilliance shone beyond the sun,

and whose name was spoken with reverence

by every angel and saint in heaven.

OMO