Our Lady of the Rosary shall know
many good poets spoke many good words
about roses and other good things
and when we strive to follow in their footsteps
her face is the rosary on our tongue
her memory bead after bead
her memory rose after rose
Our Lady of
Mercy
now needs
to rain upon
other bards
and travellers
and teach
them how one shows mercy
to himself.
Our Lady of Mercy
now needs
to be the steady branch
under some
other tired bird,
the steady
branch
under some
other unsure flower bud, the steady branch under
some other
woodcutter’s hand,
goodbye,
Our Lady of Mercy,
thank your
blessed heart for trying even though you knew
we have way
too many sins to forgive.
Our Lady of
Peace
we try to
be in peace in her absence—
there is no
anger, there is no strength
left in us
to unsheathe an anger,
to
unsheathe a grief, to unsheathe our hands, to unsheathe our hearts.
Peace she
has taught us well, but in her presence
we swung
our rotten wooden fears and swords, pretended to be at war
and in her
absence now, we pretend to be in a peace
that is not
the peace of a graveyard,
of a
borderline,
of a still
pool of blood,
a stiffness,
a silence.
When does a
silence become a peace? When is longing’s edge made blunt?
Our Lady of
Navigators
stands now
on a deserted island
she does
not wait for other sailors
but she
cannot steer us now
our ships
without wind, anyhow,
are but
other deserted islands,
our hearts
but other
deserted ships in the wind
lost in the
Depth and the Breadth
without her
steering.
Our Lady of
Sorrows
was not a
lady of so many sorrows
ere she met
us, we have been to her
a gale to a
naked soil
a whip to a
naked back
a dagger to
a naked heart
a lie
against the naked truth
an us
against a her
but now we
are made barren, we are flogged, whipped, struck
now we are
being lied to
and it is
too hard to be an us without a her.
Our Lady of the Rosary shall know
many good poets spoke many good words
about roses and other good things
and when we strive to follow in their footsteps
her face is the rosary on our tongue
her memory bead after bead
her memory rose after rose
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