AT THE SHRINE

AT THE SHRINE                                                                    

At the place where the clipped  grass meets the wild            
veronica and yellow cone flowers                                             
in a cleared space under old oaks and elms

they put an image of Our Lady of Peace

and planted arborvitae[1] in a ring around her.

Within this ring, nut-hatch and oriole and wood pewee in season call

or the leaves fall

or a twig cracks underfoot

or the snow gathers, whispering around the white image

with its praying hands and inscrutable stone eyes

that turn toward and beyond the sky

where a plane hums over and the clouds run.

They have worn a path here

having so many dear

brothers, fathers, friends and lovers to pray for

and the war is over now,

the peaceful Lady having heard how,

coming in bright processions to this ring of quiet,

following the hill above the pond,

they prayed the rosary, or with fond

hearts and voices sang the old hymns

they have forgotten when they learned

but turned, all of them turned

finally towards the white lady in her ring of peace

under the drifting clouds and the old trees,

toward the lady who is not an image on a hillside

but a listening heart near by in accessible heaven.

Sister Maris Stella CSJ

Frost for Saint Brigid and other poems. New York: Sheed & Ward.  1949.

Used with permission                                       

           

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[1] An evergreen shrub