Sacred

“And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”

– Luke 1:43

 

 

How I look into your eyes where dusky shapes dance

like the moon’s face strewn with flowers,

golden, blue, pink and ivory white.

gathered a fountain around,

where love and agony meet?

 

Your palace within,

Stairwells that you traverse,

astride the black steed of death,

clutching to your breast,

the light of life.

 

O gaze so ancient! O heart sublime!

 

How do I stand before you, matronly shadow, matronly light,

encompassed by angels ,

a queen, carried aloft

upon the litter of pearled clouds

one hand pointing above, feet fixed below?

 

O arms so comely! O royalty so impassioned!

 

How do I speak unto that singular woman,

blessed throughout generations,

wiped clean by God’s florid brushstroke,

a field of scarlet and snow,

within whom love and agony rest?

 

Wrapped up in gauzy, sacred lace,

stunned, senseless, yet raptured from all fear,

I dare not echo the angel’s hail.

No, childlike, my voice cries, small and abrupt:

“My Lady, stay…and do not leave me.”

 

“Maria” by Rachel M. Gohlman