The virgin stands in the church
Aloof, white, compressed hail stones,
Cruel stones,
‘Hail Mary, mother of God’
forgiveness in her name
From her the Christ child sprang
her who screamed, him silent,
And the stone wept
And the men worship her
For her distance, from a distance,
Separated from her touch by railings
And by death
Yet it is only when she bleeds that they love her
The miracle of stone dissolving,
The fragility, the beauty, of heart’s blood
That they thought she could not spare
The men leave, and the statue is alone
Does she weep for her loneliness?
Does she regret her tainted purity,
Claret on the white spread of her gown
That statue is still,
For she commands
Although stone cannot feel