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Thank you my friend.
A new poem that celebrates Our Lady weaving a crown for her Son is published at https://www.catholicliteraryarts.org/2025-our-lady
The Weaving of the Wedding Crown
by Emma Atkinson
Where is your crown of roses, Son?
No matter, I will weave you one
With my own hands.
Give me again that gentle smile
And linger in the doorway while
I bind the strands,
And I will speak of marvels far
Beyond me—prophesies, a star,
My God made Man.
The rest, you will remember better
Than I—the Torah’s every letter
Which you began
To open, slowly, like a flower
Until the long-desired hour
Drew near at last:
The wedding, in itself a sign
Of things to come; the promised wine;
The look you cast
My way when it was done. Should I
Have known this meant that you would die?
Perhaps I did.
A mother has a way of knowing
Such things—like where her son is going.
But this you hid
Among the parables you told,
A thing so awful to behold,
Most did not see,
Nor did I fully, till you stood
Before me bathed in sweat and blood
Near Calvary.
Look—it is almost finished now—
The stems all form a single bough
Whose ends will meet.
And when this crown of yours is done,
I’ll set it on your head, my son,
And take my seat
Beside you on the royal throne.
My Lord and God, my flesh and bone,
All is complete.
https://www.catholicliteraryarts.org/2025-our-lady
This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
I love this so much! I will definitely have to get a copy.
That is awesome. Thank you so much!
🌹
Thank you my friend.
A new poem that celebrates Our Lady weaving a crown for her Son is published at https://www.catholicliteraryarts.org/2025-our-lady
The Weaving of the Wedding Crown
by Emma Atkinson
Where is your crown of roses, Son?
No matter, I will weave you one
With my own hands.
Give me again that gentle smile
And linger in the doorway while
I bind the strands,
And I will speak of marvels far
Beyond me—prophesies, a star,
My God made Man.
The rest, you will remember better
Than I—the Torah’s every letter
Which you began
To open, slowly, like a flower
Until the long-desired hour
Drew near at last:
The wedding, in itself a sign
Of things to come; the promised wine;
The look you cast
My way when it was done. Should I
Have known this meant that you would die?
Perhaps I did.
A mother has a way of knowing
Such things—like where her son is going.
But this you hid
Among the parables you told,
A thing so awful to behold,
Most did not see,
Nor did I fully, till you stood
Before me bathed in sweat and blood
Near Calvary.
Look—it is almost finished now—
The stems all form a single bough
Whose ends will meet.
And when this crown of yours is done,
I’ll set it on your head, my son,
And take my seat
Beside you on the royal throne.
My Lord and God, my flesh and bone,
All is complete.
https://www.catholicliteraryarts.org/2025-our-lady
This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
I love this so much! I will definitely have to get a copy.
That is awesome. Thank you so much!