Wherever you go there you are

Mother Mary & her son

Hung on the walls

And Watched me be me

Holding it all, less shame than a few years ago

Their home a sacred place

Saint Francis’ casa actually

I came here for relief

Reprieve from the war, long overdue

I found myself

Not perfect

No interest in perfect

Longing for love

To be seen, to be enjoyed

What did they think as they watched?

My mother

My Lord

My self