Creatures of earth
Where do thou draw thy mirth?
Thou fumble through bed of roses
And flaunt thy jewels and dresses.
Then thou smile and chortle
But where do smiles go after?
I am a lady
Voice little, inaudible.
Yet a prayer must not be loud
Not even like a tiptoe
Or the shingles of ornaments from Cleopatra’s neck.
A prayer must be as silent as that of the nativity scene,
As humble as the child in that manger.
I wish not of silvers or golds
Neither of clothes that mark differences
Nor cars that make distance
I desire of armor not for myself
But for my son and daughters
That they may tread on life,
Free from evil’s snares.
I pray for an Evergreen tree
Planted on my husband’s heart.
For like that tree, love must not wilt nor fade.
I light a candle.