|Photo: Ste. Anne (Mary's mother) holding Mary as infant. outskirts of Quebec City|
Years later I heard her
Like an echo.
As though the Saints
And Holy Water
What her prayers had not:
A brother whose legs would not walk,
A sister whose mind would not work.
Taken back to the site of Her alleged betrayal,
Instead I wonder at the
Magnificence and beauty
Of the images towering above
Gilded With love, eons ago.
The fine line Between the praise
I have for the filament
Connecting me to Divine
And the one you’re afraid I’ll worship
Instead of your tightly-controlled take
On the nature of numinousness.
c. Barbara C. Daughter, 23 June 2010