My rosary, restrung, is in my hand,
unsure of the intent of my embrace.
I whisper to its silent reprimand:
Hail Mary, Holy Mother full of Grace.
The words are wrong, but maybe she will hear
my desperate plea for peace. Hail Mary, please
restring my soul; I’m lost, alone, obscure . . .
I’m searching for my beads on bleeding knees.
Oh Father, oh my Father, hallowed be
Thy name. I have forgotten. What is mine?
My name is broken heart and misery,
devoid of my inheritance divine.
What was, what is and always what will be.
Will this world never end? Oh, set me free!