OUR LADY OF THE REFUGEES
Mother who knew
what hardship shakes
a woman bundling clothes
and putting by her wheaten cakes;
Mother who urged the donkey
(making happy riot
on the straggling stones)
urged the beast to be more quiet:
Mother who heard the Child
whimper beneath the thin blue shawl,
our aching prayers cry out to thee,
Mother, pray for them all.
A thousand Bethlehems
mask dark tonight;
the eyes of little friendly homes
have lost their light;
pathetic heaps of poor, dear things
are laid aside; a small bird sang
where a latched door swings.
Mother, whose sad Egyptian flight
preceded all of these
guide them in faith beneath familiar stars,
Our Lady of the Refugees.
Sister Maura SSND
Marian Library Collection
Used with permission
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