Hard-shelled like hard shellack, a hardened short
Shackle so loosely but firmly surrounding
This my heart of stone. If I should bemoan
I don’t feel love, if I should mourn the lack of
Union with my God, certainly I would
Appeal to this lead weight, it’s several inches
Thick, it encapsulates it; it’s wooden-like
But a deadweight - a weight that suffocates.
Wouldn’t it be better if it would just fall?
Peel off by layer, or better yet break;
A barrier I would have severely
Fashioned, clearly now, with sins of vices:
Haughtiness and soaring pride; pushing my
Way, ever my will at every turn!
Ah the weight of it dear Lady of Montserrat.
I’m trapped, snatch me from this encampment of
Concupiscence; this encasement of
Irascibility: a double scourge of
Kryptonite! If it takes a whole life,
From night to day, I’ll wait for this shield to
Fall; to fall for good and finally reveal,
Dear Lady of Montserrat,
A real soft beating, loving heart of flesh.
Gary Edward Geraci