Mary in the waiting wood

I’d guess that when she conceived baby Jesus, Mary was of an age with the young poet in the previous post.


waiting wood


Tree, tell me

how to be all still;

without stir, without breath,

naked, brown arms

strong outheld to the far sky;

hushed, hung, held

yet vibrant with pulsing Spring.


No sounds.

Silence rounds,

rings the tree. Tree,

can you hear me

straining the stillness;

my soul’s silence lifted to

the limits of creation’s response?


Tree, tell me

that we understand one another;

we share together

the warm life welling within us.

Shall I dwell with you in the waiting wood;

alone, a quiet maiden

becoming a mother?



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Filed under Daily Reflections, Laudato si', poetry

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