Like a solitary jewel set on green velvet
She sits on rock, her hands on her knees,
Her face cupped in her hands. In the garden-
Sanctuary of Notre Dame, she just is.
The distant wooded valley lifts eyes to her.
She misses white birds in precise formation
Skimming the silent river. She sees not
Foliage and flowers that paint her place,
And doves pecking on the ground, cooing.
Blue sky and gray clouds wait for meaning.
Time rustles unnoticed through the trees
And breezes quietly through her shiny hair.
A gentle sun lays hands of blessing on her
And disappears. It, too, lets her be.
[Notre Dame de La Salette, Ramon, Isabela]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem