Ave Maria

She has lost her hope. Clasping her rosaries close in hand. As the shadows begin to cast along her face. She bows her head. Taking particular note to the cross settled in her hands. Her knuckles are bloody. She must have fought for her spirit today. Never remembering anything but this mere moment. As the leaves swift through the field of green, She envisions the angles descending from Heaven, And howling about the winds … Looking down to her shoes Which only consist of rips and tares. It is these that bring her back to this agonizing reality. The winds have calmed. The leaves still. She takes one more look at the cross-draped in her hand. And relates her pain to the nails beat into Jesus’ innocent body. Hoping one day she will be whole, as He is. Ave Maria.