Mystical Rose

by Virginia M. Kimball, S.T.D.

The church is darkened,

a candle lit, chanting voices

permeate this temple of Presence.

Faithful stand and pray,

glowing icon, flickering.

Petitioning, lamenting,

sorrowing, remorseful,

her image comfort, bathed in

confidence, care, bedecked

in blooms, stark sign of beauty

and the oath of Lent.

Life ebbing away, always,

day after day, but now listening:

"As for a woman, and man,

the living days are like grass,

like a flower in the field, flourishing,

and then the wind blows over it,

and it is gone.  Its sweet yellow

no longer has its place." ^{(Psalm 103:15-16)} Will blossoms

so tender in scent necklacing

the Theotokos -- dry and disappear?

Or is she a lotus, opening to the divine?

"Opening her petals like roses

planted near running water" ^{(Sirach 39:13).} 

"The mercy of the Lord is from

everlasting to everlasting,

for those who have awe

for the presence of Being." ^{(Psalm 103:17)}

Imagining: "For see

the winter is past, the rains and snow

are over and gone. Flowers shoot

up, appearing on earth,

time for pruning vines has come,

and the song of the dove is heard." ^{(Song of Songs 2:11-12)}

A shoot sprouts from the stump of Jesse,

green bud emerges from an ancient tree,

from roots of what is to be. ^{(Isaiah 11:1)}

We wait and pray and vow to repent.

Flowering birth, an assurance in Lent.