I reach out to Mary, whose hands are warm,
and at first grasp, feel real,
no matter she is a statue
bathed in sun.
I lie down and the sunlight is a balm,
that upon closing my eyes I drift,
thinking how perfectly poised is earth
to hold us in comfort.
And when I am enfolded in the embrace of marriage,
sustained,
I think of the sun,
and Mother Mary hearing our yearnings.
How our children really, are like flowers
with faces uplifted.
Just like my sprouting lettuce in a seed tray,
whose fragile shoots turn full circle to the light.
And when our children appear at a distance,
our warmth will find them responding again
with the vitality of youth.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
February 2023

Beautiful.
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Thank you my dear friend for resonating x
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