The Sworded Heart Poem by Austyn Chimbuoyim

Who wields the sword that pierces Thee?
To whom is Thy Soul's within shown?
Pain or pleasure, which rocks Thy heart,
From the violent thrust by hand unknown?

O Lady, bearer of the Ancient Word,
And to the Ageless Spirit bethrothed,
How tranquil did Thou remain within,
While those lips, quivering and old, spilled such News?

Words as stong, e'en the brave could crumble;
And as deep, even the sage would grope,
Uttered in manner 'void of urgency,
To a maiden heart guiless and lowly.

O Virgin, Mother to the Word that made
And Fathered by the Supreme Life-giver;
How Thy heart so frail; Thy soul spotless,
Is run through in ways not yet conceived!

What is the sword which rends Thy soul so?
How could my heart which thinks of this know?
O Dove pure, let me find the Truth hidden
In that verse plain, yet with riddles ridden.

Echoes of the past, how they now resound!
Mother and Son, two scenes in contrary times.
Two hearts in one web caught - pain and sorrow:
The spare stuck to His, as a sword to Thine.

And no more secrets, the thoughts of men...
For with the Light or the Night each must dwell.
Then the prophet's words, with Thee, true would tell:
"Thy soul too, a sword shall pierce"; Not in vain.