Celebrate *´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•` National Poetry Month

O, Holy Mary—

your statue rises
above blue candles,
their smoke lifting prayers
for the sick, the grieving.
You invite us to
be Your children—

to bow our hearts and bodies,
to genuflect
before Your Crucified Son
(also the Risen Savior),
before each station
of the cross
as it tells its part
in the sweet story of salvation.
You gently remind us

how even Holy Water
confirms our Baptism
and salvation in Him.

You bring honor to Jesus,
directing human hearts
beyond the beauty of
stained glass,
the history of a cathedral
built in Byzantine style,
the sweet smell of incense,

to the truth of His Presence
in the bread and the wine,
whose accidents remain,
so that proof enters willing hearts
and lets the others be.
O, Mother of God,
hold me, hold me—

beneath the window
called The Eye of God,
’til I hear my name called
to the Table of the Lord.

From Every Tender Reed