Our world longs for healing
I know you hear our tears falling
The polar bear father groans for his children
The butterfly pauses too long on a wayward branch
The wolf mother considers if having cubs is a good idea
The salmon, bewildered swim in circles, aching with eggs
The blue bird of happiness seeks her mate, calling, calling…
The inch worm only attempts a quarter inch this morning
The depressed human, does not want to rise from sleep today
Our Lady, Mother of All Good Things
We artists are a complex weaving
Our beauty and our pain seek us
Through brush and pen
Through hand and foot
Through drum and flute
Through paper and scissor
Through image and word
Through life and death
Through our desire to be self expressed.
While we are at once struck with joy
at sudden inspiration, we are also
sometimes stuck with a strange halting fear
Fear enough to stay the brush
or halt the tambourine.
Is it worth it to make art?
Am I good enough? Can I sell it?
What will others think? Of me, my art?
I should be doing accounting,
become a lawyer, a doctor or politician,
or clean my house after all,
instead of getting myself to studio or notebook.
We all know – poets and artists –
are of no value here…there are mouths to feed!
And so we chatter on in this way
Poisoning our ideas with lack of Faith.
Blessed Lady, You have heard all of our complaints I am sure.
For many thousands of years, and as a form of medicine,
have given yourself, Lady, your own image and heart,
to millions of painters, poets and songwriters to keep them
Going. To keep them company in the dark night.
For this we thank you. For this I thank you beyond measure.
You are the most painted, most sung about Lady in all the world!
Blessed Lady I beseech you on our behalf, on behalf of all artists!
There is a weave of love and instruction
You have placed upon my life.
Your Son said His yoke was easy and His
burden was light.
You shine the light
on the unseen places.
The unhealed places.
The old story places.
The edge of my mind
covered over by thoughts
I picked up on a side street.
Your light shines and reveals
Darling, you don’t need that thought any longer.
Let it go.
Oh Holy Lady
bring eucalyptus and sage
bring bowls of clear broth