St Alphonsa, She Is My Son’s Beloved - Visitor's Poem

by Antony Manalady
(Ramankary, Alappuzha, Kerala, India)

“Heavenly FATHER, wash a soul pure
Consider my humble suffering�
She coughed and coughed and spit blood

“It is thousands, my dear Daughter
Shall I say a word and heal her
She follows my Son, How I stop her?

My agony at the loss of Mine own
Gashed Him and set out He to mine
Suffered to give the lost ones, life

My Word He sowed, the Word of life
It’s treaded upon by some, no life.
Shallow and rocky ground didn’t yield

She holds the Word in her Heart
It blooms, She is a Garden
It yields hundred fold, She’s a field

She received the Eucharist , He gave
And became His Body completely
She took the Wine He offered
And became His Soul, forever

Her soul desired to fly to skies
And sink beyond the setting sun
To seek Him who was her beloved

Frowns she did not scorn,
She saw their agonized souls
And won them for her Jesus

She spoke to little minds
Their souls met hers
They met Me and Him.

Marriage of bodies, she shunned
Pleasures of desire, she set aside
Unknown to world, she lives for Him

The body reviled, it persecuted her
She took the cup of pains gladly
Offer it to Me to wash the souls pure

How shall I hold her, from following Him
Bear my Dear, Heaven will honour you
She loves Him and through Him, Me

Holy Virgin, with her attendant angels
Weave for you a rob of your Holiness
It’ll brighten the world and adorn Heaven