The name “Mary” brought about this dreamy floaty sense to me this morning:
Mary opened her cloak and I could see the collection of things she carries for all time.
On one side, pockets filled with snacks. She is ready to share with anyone who is hungry and asks. The pocket closest to her heart, holding tiny infant souls just about to claim conception for life inside a human body. One pocket holds a dagger so when miscarriage or abortion happens, the child soul is quickly severed and the soul goes back into her pocket until the next place is ready.
The other side of her cloak covers everyone who lives in desperation. They feel lonely and don’t even consider to cry for mother. Here she holds them most closely, sharing her breast, and carries hopelessness so that space is opened in their lives to accept grace.
The lining of her cloak is ether, stars and water in constant cycle, ice, water, gas, action so constant it could be mistaken for glitter.
Her skirts are adorned with the geese and ants told in story, also her former bones knowing of childhood violence. Snakes at her feet, guarding her walk as she stepped on the grounds of her own life so tenderly.
In 2019 when you are visited by bird or message of poetry, Mary has gifted this communication through a messenger who lives in her cloak. Some people call might chance this to coincidence, but …no. It is a visitor from Mary’s Cloak.