Praise for Holy Fools

by Julie Sumner

Proverbs 17:22 KJV A merry heart doeth good like medicine; but a broken spirit drieth up the bones

Merry as in Christmas. Merry, that kissing cousin to another word, mirth, a mouthful

of laughter tumbling into the world like a thousand rosy-gummed babies. Gracious One,

I thank you for your merry band of holy fools. For the mullet-crowned man who slapped

out his version of “Flight of the Bumblebee” on his taut drum of a belly, swollen from a listing liver. For the aging oncologist who carried candy-rack tabloids like The Sun Weekly or The Star in his heavy leather briefcase—just to regale the nurses with stories of triplet alien babies or carnivorous cypress trees. And especially for the lovely newlywed with topaz eyes and six more months left in her life. When I slyly asked if she could belch the alphabet, she burst into peals of laughter, clangs of defiant joy that rang out through the beige clinic like church bells on Christmas Day.

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Julie Sumner is a writer who has worked as a critical care nurse, liver transplant coordinator, and massage therapist. She now teaches creative writing, focusing on reading poetry and writing as ways to develop resilience. Her poems and book reviews have appeared in Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel, Delta Poetry Review, The Intima, and elsewhere. Her chapbook, Meridian, was chosen by poet Jane Hirshfield as the winner of the 2023 Wildhouse Poetry Prize.