Saturday, March 26, 2011

First March Selection

From the gold realm she smiles,

That mental mirror, warm, unchanging

Paradise where she has always lived.

They know her, even though her name has changed

From time to time. Now the candle light

Reveals her like themselves when young,

Holding in hope the baby who might not survive,

The son who soon enough will go

About his father’s business, war or

Just in charge. Hail semper virgo, she

The burning bush, some essence in themselves

They long to cling to even as the shadows lengthen,

As they labor at the loom and stove,

As they bottle blood today for wine tomorrow.

O dulcis, clemens, pia: bear with us,

Et macula non est in te.

--Patrick Mizelle

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