Big Brother

As I the storms defy and madly leap

upon the screaming seas, upon thy face

what joy is writ! What roaring mountains steep

would I not dare to scale, harrowing race

would I not run for Love, wherein you find

your heart at rest, your strength, and mayhaps mine.

In Mary’s mantle safe, the waves yet grind

upon the spirit drunk on Love’s choice wine.

While yet we stand upon this tilting globe,

our hearts ablaze, our eyelids set to droop,

I choose my fears and follies to subdue.

Big brother, clinging e’er to Mama’s robe,

I swear this shall be true: that as you stoop

to carry me, I’ll rise to carry you.

Posted on October 1, 2013, in Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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