Mother Mary

 
Seven sorrows pierced withal
since touch of wing upon your brow!
And now
a dead son crumpled, bloody, in your arms.
Had you known then
when holy ghost and angel came to call
the size, the scars, the depth of pain,
of all the wounds
they’d leave upon your heart,
would you have given oh so easily
your maidenly consent
to Gabriel’s request?
Have you reasons hard enough,
to full repent your gladdened yes?