In the earliest hours, when the world
Yet asleep from restless wonderings
Cease I, and keep a vigil
In faith's terrible darkness singing
With the Lady of the Night.
Here, I discover how her serene silence soothes
tenderly lonely, tormented
souls, even in death's grip,
For faith's shadow knows
such love from dark night's Lady.
The Cross of racing cars and empty
street, met in sober homecoming, sudden struck
Absent father, wounded son, my difficult brother, sin now born away
On faith's lightening, as flash and flow those tears
Of the Mother gently given us by her dying Light.
The Cross of cloaked asphalt, cement,
hidden bus stop, when no-one knew
that disconnected goodly child self-poisoned
In her arms at rest as did her own Son
Save that Woman who gazes by faith's glory.
We place such large stones in the holes we dig
For ourselves, for those we love
While faith weeps, aching for the lost
In the arms, we rest, as did her own Son,
Of that Daughter whose glory sees hope.
Rising, before first light, a dawning New Day,
In each one's garden, a throw from that Cross, from
Every Cross, wounded Hands roll away that large stone,
While in upper room, in each one's plight, prays
That good Lady, the Gardner's Mother, ours in the night.