I was not there.
I did not dream my way
up prayer-worn Temple steps
as you did, Christ-Mother, that day.
I was not there.
I did not scan the gloom
or clutch a hand for courage
in the Temple waiting-room.
I was not there.
I did not hear the praise
which ancient ones sang of your child
at the midnight of their days.
I was not there.
I did not feel the sting
which bitter-sweet horizons
of your motherhood will bring.
But I am here.
And I would know a birth
to bring Divine Light’s love
into an aching, longing earth.
Yes, I am here.
And I would do my part.
O let a rising blade of Spring
strike fire into my heart.