Saturday, February 15, 2020

Wedding Day Bombing

The white dress my mother made for me
Now is covered in soot
My husband with blood above his brow
Lays at the foot of the altar
Rumble blankets us
Husband and wife
Was this how it was in Pompeii
Rome
Constantinople
The rosary I gripped so tightly
Is now broken
Broken like me



Proposal

It was five degrees that day
With an open collar you came towards me
I was shivering so
Your embrace took me by surprise
Chaste though it was
Right there on the street we confessed our love
As the wind picked up we walked to a church
On bent knee he asked my heavenly father for my hand

The Joust

My love, my love how could this be?
This should have been an easy win
What seemed like a victory ended in defeat
The yellow rose you gave me fell
Time stopped for a second
The king's guard rushed you to a tent
Blood flowed
So much blood
As you faded from this world
I laid my head on your heart
Three gentle beats, my Lord allowed me to hear
Before closing your eyes

First Meeting

Trust
That's what I've always been told to do
At this moment trust doesn't exist
Only fear and worry
Heart racing
Shortness of breadth
He appears
The one chosen for me
He is a good man
I don't know this, but I feel this
He offers his hand
I accept
I trust

Saturday, December 28, 2019

Holy Innocents

Every five minutes you can hear a woman screaming
And a man pleading
With a dead husband you are desperate
The son at your breast is all you have
Wrapping him close to you
So close you fear you may break one of his bones
All that's left is to run
Run and pray your son will be spared



Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Night of His Birth

Before you are the gates of Bethlehem
The journey is nearly over
And your time is fast approaching
Joy engulfs the heart
The tiny baby that blessed your womb will soon be your arms
There is no fear that you and your husband will have no place to stay
God will provide
You belly moves
A star shines brightly overhead
Joseph it is time



Friday, December 13, 2019

Sweet Bread

My hands grow tired from kneading the dough
Over and over I ask Mama Mary to pray for me
The sweet bread has to be right

The house is dark
The sweet bread Mama made is waiting for me
In my white dress, red sash, and a wreath with candles on my head
I wake the house up and deliver sweet bread to my parents and my brother

This is the first year without Mama
St Lucy was her patron saint and on her feast day it became our mini Christmas
I miss her so
The house is dark, the only light, candles
The sweet bread has to be right