Mary watched Kesha’s slender form melt into the silver mists that clouded the road. Carefully, she lifted a finger to smooth out the little folds she had begun to notice above her brow.
A heavy weight in her chest hurt every attempt to breathe. She sank to her knees.
“Lord God, I need you!” she whispered into the pale black air. “Why can I not hear you?”
Salt-water bathed the careworn eyes. The twinkling lights of the house danced through the glassy lens.
A golden beam of light fell across the mottled edge of the washtub. Dirty water lay stagnant within, milky bubbles dotting its murky glass.
“Have you done with the potatoes, Mary?”
Helna jabbed the younger girl with a padded elbow. Mary shrugged.
“Oh Helna, why do some people get all the goodness in life and others only soapsuds?” she asked the older slave woman. Helna’s thick hair bloomed in a wreath around her face, like a lion’s mane, as she ran a callused hand through it.
Please take a look at the notes before reading
Dawn.
It was beautiful. And painful.
It shouted life, thrilling every bone in Mary’s body. It flooded her with memories that sleep alone could escape.
What was joy when her world had fallen apart? Then again, what was pain in the pale, dew-stained morning of Athens?
“Why do you hate me?”
The words were spoken. He dared not back away now.
Her eyes flashed with anger.
“You stole me from my family!”
“I—”
“You stole my life, my freedom, everything that I was! How can I not hate you?”
Silence.
Then slowly, “You hate me—”
“Yes! why do you ask?”
Chares took a step back. He stared at the dirt, then flicked his eyes up to Mary’s face. “I…just wanted to know.”
“Now you know.”
He looked down again.
Blissfully blooming beauty sprung
Budding, arraying colours gay
Pussy willows, daisies, daffodils
Mingling fresh breath of trees
Cheerfully notes of birds fly
Amongst Mary’s eyes blue sky
Light pouring forth in great measure
In grass yellow-green with colour
Amongst the basin of watery blue
Wispy white brushstrokes flee
Droplets, sparkling, pearly rain
The whistling of wind whirls round
Blustering, fluttering shadows
Swaying, tilting boughs
Bending, leaning blades
Flying, swirling leaves
My Dear Mary,
Do not be afraid. I have a special message for you, my child. These things may sound strange, but be comforted - I am in control and have good plans for your future.
I know you are "only" a fourteen-year-old girl living in the small town of Nazareth. Yet you will fulfill the words of the prophet Isaiah,
"Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
And they shall call his name Immanuel."
Maiden of tears weeping for men
Lady of the Roses crushing the serpent
Women of light in grotto of Lourdes
Mother of Christ who came to earth
Virgin sorrowful, swords of pain
Queen of Angels, Queen of Saints
Immaculate heart lilies surrounded
Lady of the Medal, miracles astounded
Lady of Mount Carmel, apparition at night
Lady of Fatima, visions of light
Immaculate virgin, mother, and queen
Gift of God, lovely, most serene
(All right, this piece is really long, but it's partly because of the very quickly-flowing way it's written, with often only one word to a line. So please don't be intimidated by its length and give up on it...)