The realm of all things sad and heavy
will take to her like a fish to water,
people from all walks of life
will throw obscenities at her
time will wave dust into her face,
she will cry but you won't see a tear;
she will sit by herself and mutter silently
at the petty hour when all are snoring away.

She has never known unhappiness,
her face glows with Vaseline
on top of a thorn stuck underneath her skin,
she laughs and does so whole-heartedly
and gives even when she has none for herself;
she is full of gratitude for the little she gets,
she does not complain but believes in God,
she prays for blessing, for mercy and pardon.

Her voice is refreshing to the ear,
it paints the picture of a princess in a castle,
yet every prayer seems to herald worse;
her Holy Rosary glows in the dark,
her sign that Mother Mary is there for her
through thick and thin she will be fine,
tomorrow she will be up with the same voice,
with the same smile, with the same gratitude.