This is the first in a series of poems under the title Rosa Mundi by poet and artist Lynn Roberts.
Star of Ocean
Sometimes a child is born who doesn’t cry –
or not much; who sleeps calmly through the night;
eats sprouts without more than a cat’s face
grimace of disgust, and shares its toys;
a child who’s good, but not disliked; who’s born
without the selfish gene. If you have ever
thought of Mary (Virgin, mother of Christ)
perhaps it was as someone just like that.
I think you’re wrong.
I think that Mary was a Boadicea,
a Katy in What Katy did, Elizabeth
of Hungary, Lady Godiva,
or one of Shakespeare’s feistier heroines.
If you were God, choosing a mother to
bring up your Son, your Self, who would you pick?
a characterless white mouse, a nullity?
Little Dorrit? Nell? or someone with the steel
to bear the weight of hope and love and death?
Someone unformed, as rough as carborundum;
someone who would be polished by her choice
into a sapphire with a perfect star.