Sister Mary
you have guided over journeys
before me
for me
after me
My gratuities have come easily
like luscious oil absorbing into my dry skin
…moonlight over the meseta
keeping the wolves at bay
lifting suffering from my existence
Sister Mary, mother of angels
most holy creature
climbing mountains with the goats
with ladders belonging not to Jacob
with wings fortified, unlike Icarus
how you cradle me in the cool breeze
while the hot sun toughens the leather of my skin
Some moments
I am too lost within the maze
wondering too much about
where your guidance will lead me
forgetting you are the voice of the way
Sister Mary
the womb and breast of life
the opportunity of evolution
the hope of survival
stay atop your mountain
so that we might strive to climb
Do not reveal yourself,
allow us the journey to find you
The Way drifts over snow-capped peaks in summer
and sister, mother whispers homilies
in abandoned stone buildings
across this landscape of medieval history
Sister Mary
you are the home many of us never had;
a pilgrim
step by step
you guide me in my darkness and light
af
(written with pen on paper for Sister Mary’s 71st year on the Earth Plane)
Talk to me, Anthony. Is this not a new, as in the second) Sister Mary poem? I am happy to purchase this one for greater than a dollar. Talk to me.
Hey there…This is the same one, but, it seems that the first one didn’t get sent out, so I reposted it.
I left you a voicemail a few months back. I am only in NY for one more day, but, perhaps later in the month I shall return and we could get together.