Icon she gave me

She placed before me, still and small,
The icon in silence, head did fall.
Yet in my sorrow eyes were bright,
A love that turns the dark to light.


The Holy Mother stands in grief,
Yet holds the faith beyond belief.
Her gaze fixed where the suffering lies,
Mercy from the crucified.


In this icon, still and true,
I see what love can bring us through.
For she who gave it, soft and kind,
Gave more than heart—she gave her mind.


To God, to me, to all things whole,
A window opened in my soul.

Published by Smith Shine Poetry

I am my poetry, my poetry is me. I pray what I believe. I believe what I pray.

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