Thursday, April 25, 2013

Devotion for today: Sing of Mary!

Next week we will be studying the beautiful devotions our Catholic faith offers to us as a way to pray to our heavenly mother, Mary. To prepare for our study of Mary, let us spend time this week reading some beautiful poetry regarding Our Lady. We begin today with two poems by Blessed John Paul II. As we prepare for our study, spend time reflecting on the life of Mary in her role as Mother of God, Mother of us all!

Her Amazement at Her Only Child
Light piercing, gradually, everyday events; 
a woman's eyes, hands
used to them since childhood.
Then brightness flared, too huge for simple days,
and hands clasped when the words lost their space.
In that little town, my son, where they knew us together, 
you called me mother; but no one had eyes to see
the astounding events as they took place day by day.
Your life became the life of the poor
in your wish to be with them through the work of your hands.
I knew: the light that lingered in ordinary things, 
like a spark sheltered under the skin of our days -
the light was you;
it did not come from me.
And I had more of you in that luminous silence 
than I had of you as the fruit of my body, my blood.
Collected Poems.
Karol Wojtyla (Pope John Paul II)

Translated by Jerry Peterkiewicz.
New York: Random House, 1982. 

First Moment of the Glorified Body
My place flows by in memory. The silence 
of those distant streets does not pass away,
held up in space like glass which limpid eyes
break into sapphire and light. Nearest
are the child's words on which silence takes wing:
Mamma - mamma -
then silence falls again into the same streets,
an invisible bird.
There I have returned many a time to memories:
from which life overflows, surging from within
with unlikely meaning,
thought and emotion balanced
as if the scales were poised in pulsing blood
leaving silence undisturbed, attuned to breathing
thought and song.
Perhaps this is prayer, my Son, and these are simple days 
already beyond their measure, flowing
into the pupils of my eyes, into my weightless blood.
These are simple days, my Son, 
carried from those streets where silence stands
unveiling your childish voice.
How different your words now, heard from afar. 
Lips once whispered them, now they reach
into my soul as thought alone, speech
simple, immediate.
Collected Poems.
Karol Wojtyla (Pope John Paul II)

Translated by Jerry Peterkiewicz.
New York: Random House, 1982. 

No comments: