poetry, prose, and other strings of words · 1993 - 2003
O Deum!
Number 121
April 22, 1997
The earth mother
Holds me in her embrace:
How can I refuse her?
She whose own children devour her;
She whose children
She has fed
Mea alma mater
She whose jewelry
Is stolen from around her neck;
Whose garlanded roses,
Acid burnt,
Hold forth in
Dusty Discourse;
Whose marrow we suck
In our daily itinerary;
Whose very bones
Flesh and blood too
We cast about ourselves;
The Blessed Mother,
Who once above all else
was praised,
Has fallen to the Blessed Father.
And now,
She calls me
Revolving,
I am Hers,
And I am His
And Life is complete again.