Covered with dirt, you saw the angel.
Tearful, you wrestled your child from a dragon's jaws.
Bloodied with sorrows lodged in your chest like
seven arrows, you stood.
Eyes so pure, glancingtowards death.
Even in blue night with the
heavens at your back, you wept "fiat".
Every step empty til the second coming, you trudge
offering hand to unholy ones who defile
....those lost children.
You catch their cries in moonlight
longing for your lap as did their Lord
on the moonless night he was tortured
.Now a crow or sparrow mourning there,
Only you...
A bent figure, clutching white roses,
the moon at your feet.
No comments:
Post a Comment