Madonna Without Child

by H. Edgar Hix | January 30, 2014

She holds His shoes in her hands.

They are worn shoes,

but the only clothes not stolen

by Romans and priests and elders

and everyone else who always wanted

a piece of Him. But they cannot have

her piece. The feet that wore these shoes

were feet of her feet, blood of her blood,

tears of her tears.

As yet, the halo has not been painted.

As yet, she is still a Semitic woman

with a dead Semitic son. And yet,

the halo will shine no brighter than now,

barely reflecting off brighter tears;

tears that will paint her halo brighter

than any pale Dutch Master ever could.

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