This is a very rough-and-ready version of the piece, but that’s the nature of Lent. I’d rather not post something so unfinished. Too bad, kid.
Because St. Blaise is the patron of any ENT concern, I could’ve used him as my saint for ear trouble. When the priest crosses the candles in front of my throat and gives the blessing, though, it feels specific to the vocal chords. He’s my singing saint.
The fish is one of his indicators. He cured a boy who was choking on a bone.
The iron comb is the torture device that killed him. A tool for carding sheep’s wool was used to flay his skin.
The little bird is for the animals who came to him to be healed and blessed. After reading about his martyrdom, it’s nice to think of something more gentle and wholesome.