Madonna in the City

I saw her bare feet in the fresh virgin snow,
As red as the coals in my furnace aglow.
She shivered as ice crystals hung from her hair:
Another poor wretch in this city ‘most bare.
I’ll never know why in these bleak city rows
My gaze fell upon her, the lowest of lows.
Her eyes were like diamonds; but deadened with fear,
Like beauty in hiding from danger grown near.

I froze in surprise when I saw her move quick.
She brought to her side a small boy who was sick.
The infant was crying in pain from the cold,
And mother, though trembling, did tighten her hold.
His ears and his feet and his pink chubby hands
Were all cut and bleeding without any bands.
For winter is vicious and nature unkind,
The seasons move on without heart or a mind.

His cry grew unceasing. She wept pure and soft.
But both of them shone like the stars hung aloft.
Their pain was as glory is to a man vain.
Though weeping, I saw their misfortune a gain.
A shadow, cast o’er the sad couple in black,
Seemed only to herald a future attack.
A pain worse than poverty lay in the mist,
A prophecy harder than Rome’s iron fist.

The day’s pain and sorrow are days gold and bright
The hardships of winter are nothing but light.
Together they walked through the twilight of life
Awaiting a midnight. Awaiting the knife.
Awaiting a daybreak. Awaiting the sun.
Awaiting a moment to know that it’s done.
But gently she held him, with no thought of death,
With no thought of when he would take his last breath.

My heart of stone softened, I wanted to aid,
But as I did, mother and infant did fade.
O’ was it the mist, or the fast growing night,
That quickly did veil them and hide them from sight?
I fell to my knees as the two disappeared,
And though it was freezing, I felt I was seared
By grace indescribable, beauty so rare,
A mother and infant, alone, crying there.




Art Work:
Madonna and Child
Sassoferrato