I wish that I could sit beside
Baby Jesus in the hay . . . . .
His Mama's face on a statue
opened up to me, yesterday.
No cool and distant countenance,
but a yielding, humble and sweet --
arms outstretched, face beckoning,
as though it were I She'd been waiting to greet.
Love was Her beauty, Her selflessness
the magnet that drew me near
in prayer to Her, with new understanding
of my little Mother dear.
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