C
CatholicMan17
Guest
For Her Mother-in-law
Her mother-in-law,
Would come day and night;
His mother a stand,
For lifting His Light.
And into their bed,
His mother would crawl;
To kiss their sweet heads,
This mother so small.
She’d always obey,
Her Son Who knew best;
And all through the day,
Repose at their Chests.
His mother is yours’,
His mother is mine;
His Bride is the Church,
And He is the Christ.
Demons
Demons, there are three,
They try to bring me to my knees;
Pull me down into the sea,
And so I grasp her hair.
Her hair, I smell her hair;
The Blessed Mother seems to care.
I grasp for warmth, I gasp for air,
I grasp for someone anywhere;
I gasp my last gasp of her scent,
Our Lady gives my cheek a kiss,
As I am chained up on the wall,
I cannot live afraid to fall.
I fall; I fall so hard,
And try to pick up all the shards,
The shards; they are my every thought,
Yet all are broken, false, or lost.
Stanzas on Christ #1 - Oratio
I open up and kneel beside my bed,
To give my scattered self again to Christ;
My tears are clear; His sweat was thick and red,
The Holy Face of Christ never fails to shine,
His Hands don’t cease to give; even their Life.
Stanzas on Christ #2 - The Searcher
I went to a tower upon a hill,
To seek and find my God;
He wasn’t there — to my despair,
For I was looking wrong.
I looked in a chest of silver and gold,
And built towns up on sand;
Yet winds blew forth, and rivers rose,
Despite all in my hands.
I searched the trees, the homes, the plains,
To find what I should love;
Though all along Who I should hug,
Was hanging on a Cross.
Her mother-in-law,
Would come day and night;
His mother a stand,
For lifting His Light.
And into their bed,
His mother would crawl;
To kiss their sweet heads,
This mother so small.
She’d always obey,
Her Son Who knew best;
And all through the day,
Repose at their Chests.
His mother is yours’,
His mother is mine;
His Bride is the Church,
And He is the Christ.
Demons
Demons, there are three,
They try to bring me to my knees;
Pull me down into the sea,
And so I grasp her hair.
Her hair, I smell her hair;
The Blessed Mother seems to care.
I grasp for warmth, I gasp for air,
I grasp for someone anywhere;
I gasp my last gasp of her scent,
Our Lady gives my cheek a kiss,
As I am chained up on the wall,
I cannot live afraid to fall.
I fall; I fall so hard,
And try to pick up all the shards,
The shards; they are my every thought,
Yet all are broken, false, or lost.
Stanzas on Christ #1 - Oratio
I open up and kneel beside my bed,
To give my scattered self again to Christ;
My tears are clear; His sweat was thick and red,
The Holy Face of Christ never fails to shine,
His Hands don’t cease to give; even their Life.
Stanzas on Christ #2 - The Searcher
I went to a tower upon a hill,
To seek and find my God;
He wasn’t there — to my despair,
For I was looking wrong.
I looked in a chest of silver and gold,
And built towns up on sand;
Yet winds blew forth, and rivers rose,
Despite all in my hands.
I searched the trees, the homes, the plains,
To find what I should love;
Though all along Who I should hug,
Was hanging on a Cross.