Friday, September 06, 2002

Song to Mary

The Feast of the Assumption sort of came and went, without much reflection on my part nor fanfare in my soul for this great mystery that, in the shadow of the Resurrection, holds a promise for all of us. Conscience-stricken, I feel that I owe her something, anything, even if it's simple. Originally written for the occasion of the institution of the Sodality of Our Lady, St. Augustine's parish, Gainesville, Florida. My wife was one of their original members. Circa the early 1980's:

Silent Woman, bride of grace,
We see the sun upon your face,
We see the sun within your eyes,
Your child's heart confounds the wise.
Against our fear that life is fleet,
We see the moon beneath your feet.

O Mistress of the stalwart heart,
In a darkened age your womb is art.
But no man's life is ever done
Till the eye is blind, the heart is won,
For men are many, the faithful few,
And you the first of the old made new.

By miracles the world is shown
When the eye is blind, the heart is known.
Hence your womb confirms this trust:
The more we love, the less we lust.
In other women let me see
What in you is claimed 'it cannot be.'

The moon beneath, the sun above,
The one is faith, the other love;
There enthroned till all is done,
The eye is blind, the heart is won,
In the glory of Eve before the Fall,
Mother of Christ, Mother of all.






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