On my way to honor her Immaculate Heart
Veils of sorrow, gold light and violet incandescence
I, sweeping by,
Brushing through,
Experiencing a fragile elegance beyond imagining
Were it not for a miracle of God
These gossamers would completely dissolve
And wither away
At the intrusion of my darkened soul
Upon this sacred, unguarded space
Filigrees woven of precious tears, longings, smiles, ecstasies, and other
Of Mary’s life
And the total annihilation of her self at the Cross
When her heart was murdered by the piercing—
The torture of her Son, God.
Flowers of unfading and unending beauty appear
In a field of dreams, on my way to her throne, her Heart
I walk, wondering if I can —
No, I cannot.
Who can envision the Immaculate Heart of Mary?
So I leave a violet there at the entrance
It’s picked so she’ll know the difference
From the wild, angelic ones in the field
I know she is smiling at me.
My heart
Light and happy