We The Blessed Poem by Paul Brookes

Virgin, yes she stares at us every morning,
beatific smile plastered on plaster,
her too blue robe reflects skyward.

pray, mother urges,
don't be tempted by the flesh
keep pure, keep your urges at bay.

we are all sinners in her eyes
she says, as she glances at the Holy Mother
on her shelf,
so pray.

we round a round of rosary
mother smiles, to be sure she says, we are religious house.
she is so sure of our redemption,
Hail Mary Mother of God.

this is a good Catholic house mother says
when the priest visits us to take his shekels
blessing us with his sweaty cold hands on our heads
that make us shudder.

later he tries to fiddle with the boys round the back,
of the house.
while asking if they are good Catholics.

Mary looks heavenwards on her shelf
pretending nothings happening
and the sky weeps tears.