Forgive us, O Lady
for seating you on a throne
when you'd more likely prefer
the simplicity of your Nazareth home,
where you'd sing songs to your Golden Boy
and bounce him on your knee.
You know, we're always looking for some new way
to express our affection for the two of you.
But I notice as well you hold a tear-drying napkin,
the final swipe at
the guilt we bear -
the frozen, past moments,
which your son wipes away.
Father Stephen Morris
Father Stephen Morris
