A41 She Lives As A Saint Poem by Rajaram Ramachandran

The Grotto was deserted once,
But became the busiest place,
With hundreds of people
Waiting to see a miracle.

It became a daily ritual,
They sat in a semi-circle,
A priest blessed everyone,
In the name of Mary Virgin.

From the face of Bernadette,
Mother Marie found out,
She was gasping for breath
And was closer to death.

The Dean came to see her.
She told him, “I saw her, ”
In her whispering voice
With her tearful eyes.

He told her, “Yes, my girl,
You’re a Great Soul,
More than what we are
Because you’ve seen her.”

Once he rough handled her,
But now he shed a tear
For this innocent girl,
Whose cause was real.

She looked at him,
For the last time,
With a friendly smile
As a sign of farewell.

Then her eyes shone bright,
Reflecting a ray of light.
Her Lady, who came there,
To the Heaven, took her.

With Bernadette’s end,
The story didn’t end,
As her new life began
In the memory of everyone.

Detached from her body,
And attached to her Lady,
Unruffled was her mind.
Her heart was, pure and kind.

Each and every pain mental,
Or, those pains physical,
She conquered by this way
Until her last fatal day.

For all the hardship she met,
She lived like a saint yet.
For those who’re in despair,
Her life will surely inspire.

True, she lives as a saint,
Still in every living heart,
Perhaps, this kind of happiness,
The Lady meant in her promise.