My
name is written
on
the white stone,
the
name I do not know,
the
name I have not been told,
but
only that I will know
the
white stone with the name,
the
name sung by the angels,
the
name on the white stone
rolled
away from the cave.
Photograph by George Hodan via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
2 comments:
my name has never
sounded right
to my ear
felt right
on my tongue
this name
my body wears
my heart
does not
I am named "Martha,"
And, I live up to it.
Serving without ceasing,
Doing without thinking.
Assuming deeds will save
My soul which only wants
To be like Mary. Is that
My white stone's name?
Still and rapt, kneeling
Before the Lord, my God?
I'd like to think so.
I pray to know so.
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