Poetry

James Mullaney
PROFILE About me Friends (3) Poetry (33)


3 january 2012

MARY AT HOME

The sunrise finds you mending broken toys
For Jesus. Softly rouse him. You sing hymns,
Boil curds - then off he stomps with other boys.
The hills hint modestly of cedar limbs.
Blessed are they who shun the world's conceits,
Who never shrink from anonymous toil,
Who still shake out the sandy linen sheets,
Prepare unleavened bread, and olive oil.
A mother's love tells on tongues of true bells
From age to age in the Star of the Sea.
Chaste is the chalice where our Savior dwells
Fired with dominion and for you, Mary,
Who never waxed more flush than at the hearth;
Who supped the bosom bliss of planet Earth.


number of comments: 1 | rating: 2 |  more 

Joe Breunig,  

An enjoyable and interesting piece; it makes one complemplate the childhood of Jesus (on which the Scriptures are mostly silently) and his relationship with Mary; wonderfully written! Joe Breunig Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory

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