The Fourth Sorrowful Mystery
Posted by Bridget | Filed under DRAFT, poetry
and i teared up on the train
fondling my pocket rosary only 1/2 the decade
you have to say it twice through for it to count
“and i will wait for her”
the bag on my shoulder weighing heavy against the miraculous medal pinned to my bra.
i saw the next ten years of their daily bread eaten the same way
over the same paper with the same story on every page.
“and i will wait for her”
climbing the stairs to my apt i hear a loud commercial in spanish
perhaps theirs’ is saddest mystery of all.
i cannot deliver her from the evil of predictability.
nearing the 4th floor the smell of bacon wafts into my nose.
purgatory becomes her life.
unlocking my door i’m greeted to a dark stillness – home alone -
and begin my second pass of the rosary
“blessed art thou among women”
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