by Laura Botsford
Carving crisp angles out of stone was the hardest part; she was frozen there in marble for thousands of years until he came to release her from stone. He just had to find her. Then before you knew that anything could ever be so fabulously resonate, she was revealed. He found a bit of magic when he dislodged the corners around her eyes. Compassion flowed into a human face.
Grace covered her marble body and transformed the design into a woman. Her statue stood readied for the town square. Above all reproach because she was theirs – Lovers sat at her feet – Children touched her hands – Rain fell quietly not to disturb her smile
People sometimes laid a rose at her feet, believing it would dissolve through the marble straight into her spirit.
Only if we could have come at midnight we would have seen her walk about the garden.
The invocation had been read to bless her place in the court yard
A children’s choir sang.
In the distance, the church bells played Ava Maria
How did we sleep through such a miracle?
Now that the morning streams in our Saviors baptism with incandescent purity, even with Christmas gone
Alas, my sister who wishes to come back I say that only once in a universes blip could this have been so for if ever you were one to serve mankind for all eternity, your race was won.
Now the women who walk the earth, with babes in their arms take up the mantel. We engage in the “growing up” battles with every kiss on a little tear stained cheek.
With laughter shared in discovery of each promise of a new day our Marys’ soul lives through neither Catholic nor a Venus.
Nor only as a Mother of God
We women carry each the Christ seed to be born.
And each child that she bears is divine.
We manifest destiny and save each age of Earth from
The brambles of deceit, the profane ruthlessness that seeks to choke Eden from our memories
She will not be placated with charming lies
One can not succeed to hide her in shame
Nor vy her for selfish intentions
Or bid her into slavery
She can not be ordered into submission
Because she was petitioned by God
Greater is her spirit than any oppression for she is of God’s own cherished design.