Advent Reed

Our Blessed Lady is meek,
but in a way that inherits the earth
A humility that is exalted,
A simplicity than reigns,
Like the gleam of star over sea
Or a lullaby in an infant’s ear

Our Blessed Lady is mild,
But in a way that makes hearts bleed
A softness that is strength,
A mercy that is mighty,
Like the terror of the morning rising
And the the greening of the world

Our Blessed Lady is pure,
But in a way that flares like fire,
A forge that melts off chains,
An oven consuming the chaff,
Like the pale sun of early spring
Making rivers flow from ice

Our Blessed Lady is virgin,
But in a way beyond man’s touch,
A soul in single service,
A body conforming in full,
Like the purpose of a warrior’s sword
Or a reed pierced to be played

Our Blessed Lady is a queen,
But in a way that knows no pride
A handmaid turned matriarch,
A prophetess of the poor,
Like the womb of the tabernacle
And the humility of the host

Our Blessed Lady bears life’s seed,
But in a way that blossoms God
A golden lamp that shields His flame,
An ivory vase that brims His wine,
Like justice kissing mercy,
And heaven wedding earth

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