The mother, the daughter and the holy

holy-Mary-mother-baby

Just when you thought you were getting a break, here comes more poetry! This was my response to Day 6: Hero(ine), Ballad, Epistrophe.

Her purpose in life, she told me once,
was to show the world love.
The breadth of her reach I’ll never know.
The depth in mine unbounded.
She’s not perfect. Nor am I,
and words can cut like knives.
We fight and hurt and cry big tears
and water this tree of life.
She taught me how to find the beauty
in all humanity.
To the sinners, the poor, the weak and the weary-
show them empathy.
With careful hands she’s seized my heart
and tied it on my sleeve.
And though I never took up Jesus,
in my Mother I’ll always believe.

For those of you who don’t already know, my mom was a nun for 18 years before leaving the convent and starting a family. No, my dad was never a priest. My mom is very kind for not (usually) bringing it up, but I know she’s at least a little disappointed that I didn’t even turn into a Christian. Let alone a Catholic. I try to assure her that while I believe the Bible is the word of man, her values are very much engraved on my core.

Photo Credit: St Mary Redcliffe, Bristol by Nick is licensed under CC BY 2.0

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