This poem uses a lot of Catholic imagery, and may not be comfortable for some. The imagery comes from the idea of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, pierced by a spear and aflame with love for us. His heart is a place of refuge for us. But in this poem it becomes clear that our refuge, our healing comes at a cost. We are wounded, and so he was on our behalf, and for our healing.
This poem was written at a time of great sorrow and self-accusation for me, but ends with the hope of resurrection.
Lord, save me. Gripping sorrow
Blinds me. I stumble pathless, lost,
Bewildered, buffeted, storm-tossed.
Mother Mary, carve some hollow for
My aching heart, so I can see.
Wrung, remorseful, aching,
Blame eats my bones--where find you, Lord,
Within this deep’ning wound?
Mother Mary, carve some hollow for
My aching heart, so I can heal.
I lie upon a knife of my own making,
Etched by accusation.
My only hope your cross.
Mother Mary, carve some hollow for
My aching heart, so I can trust.
Carve the hollow where I hide
within His Heart.
He heals us by his wounds.
Mother Mary, Be my companion
In the dark, until the dead arise
And empty be the tomb.