Stardust

Annie Spratt-b15653e6

Do you think 

You could light a candle

And hold a prayer at the crack of your lips

For her?

 

Sometimes,

When the stories get lost

On their way out

I run to her

 

Love,

If it became flesh,

If mortality became it,

And dwelt among us.

 

Do words not flee

Before her?

And beseech respite

From their Waterloo?

 

As though they knew

Nothing offered in speech

Or thought is worthy

To speak her name.

 

Do you see?

Why nothing can convince

That God’s love is anything 

But whole, entire?

 

For she was,

Is,

A gift, His gift, 

Made, of stardust.

 

She,

My mother.

She,

Love.

Love and then some.


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