Our Lady Of Mount Carmel Poem by Michael Walker

Press me against your warm, carmel face.
Look at me with your warm, carmel eyes.
Your carmel cloaks my arms in your embrace.
You give your carmel milk to one who cries.

So often from your graces have I strayed.
In the lonely places have I stayed,
Though in your womb the Lord Himself has made.
I wade away, yet still to me you bade.

Make a tabernacle of my heart!
A crib where you can cradle Infant Christ,
Whose sweetness does exceed that of all art,
Whose beauty the world never has enticed,

And if I drank its dregs of bitterness,
It was because I longed for your caress.