Heavenly Mother,
Our Lady,
La Virgen ,
oh Mary,
it’s me -
a woman made in your image.
They say I was born a vessel of healing -
a product of divine selection -
and like you,
there is no separating from this blessing.

Men fall in love with me like I am salvation,
and I feel too small to carry their pain.
Mary, how did you protect your heart,
your energy, your magic?
I am not a savior

Mi amor, no soy una santa,
I hold the hands of men and try to explain,
I can’t ignore their pain,
and I feel everything but please,
—Mary, can you stop them
from throwing roses at your feet?
Mary,
do you love them all?

Romeo told Juliet,
Oh dear saint, let lips do what hands do
and he kissed her like a prayer
but she was just sixteen yet
destined to carry Romeo’s prayers -
destined to hold the sins purged from his kiss, his touch, his body,
forever outside of him and always within her.

I can not be any man’s saint.
I am just a woman.

Are you there?
Mary —