So this is a poem I wrote about someone I read about in school. She was an impoverished woman in Latin America in the 1960s. All her children died because of a lack of healthcare, decent nutrition, and other factors. I'm writing the poem from what I imagine would be her point of view. Sort of as an homage to her and more specifically to her children. She would have wanted me to honour those kids as best as I could. All the poor and destitute are children of God and God is the lord and the judge of us all, whoever or whatever you think God is. God loves this woman's children as God's own and this woman loves her children as they were children of God. Because they are.
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Love and Greif and Worship
(The Virgin Mary Weeps)
The tears I've shed
And the greif that was too big for any tears that no-one will see me shed
The friends that have held me through it all
Every single one of you
Were too beautiful too perfect to awe-inspiring to be defined by words
And now you are free
But how much I miss you is beyond all words
My soul weeps
Beautiful children
Human children
Angel children
God's children
My children
Dearly beloved by me
By your father
By your neighbours
By the Lord in all his mercy
Every single one of you
Were brighter than sunlight or firelight
Were clearer than a mountain stream's flow
Every single one of you were
More magic and more real and more human and more divine than anyone could ever possibly comprehend or explain
And you were mine, you were ours, you're still mine, you're still ours.
And oh the Lord in all his mercy will kill the rich one day
With as much fire and pain as the rich used to take you all from me
The Virgin Mary weeps blood
Her child is dead
And yet the Messiah pales in holiness to any of your small, gaunt faces
I've wept more than she ever can
And I've wept out my soul itself
ns 15.158.61.46da2
