Hail Holy Mother, The Pain Is So Sublime Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

The pain is so sublime
it is like a piece of fabric torn.
Morphine is the prescription
that is promised as relief.
I have a better healer,
a celestial figure of appeal.

Hail Holy Mother, Queen of Heaven,
I submit myself to you.
The pain increases,
the pain increases.
It keeps me awake at night.
I appeal to you, most Holy,
please comfort me.
Mother of God,
may my thoughts
dwell always on you.
Sweet Virgin,
may my words reflect my truth
I'm lonely and alone on this
frustrating destination.
Crawling reluctantly,
towards the conclusion.
Afraid and disheartened.
Alone but for You.

You lead me to your Son.
You bring me to Him.

Mumbled thinking of
fragmented living drowns
out living as a real person.
Collecting stones of agony
that batters the walls of
resistance. It destroys
what it can not heal.

Thank you God.
Thank you for hope.

That is all I cling to.
Mary, precious Mary,
cloak me in your mantle
of promised protection.

Hail Mary,
Hail Mary,
Hail Mary.