Weeping Statues

I hide in a dark corner of the church

Watching the weeping statue of the Virgin Mary

Silence, as deep as the graves outside

A miracle or trickery, I couldn’t tell

People wept their own tears

No sound emanating from their bodies

Almost as though they wept while holding their breath

They hold out small scraps of cloth to catch a tear

A sacred relic to take home.

Some have claimed to be healed

From one ailment or another

Stories, Chinese whispers

Should I step out of my dark corner?

Out of the doubt that held me there

Would I receive a gift from an unknown source?

Would my twisted foot be straightened?

Would I walk as others do, without the daily taunts?

I had no scrap of cloth with which to catch a tear

I edged closer to the Virgin, kneeling as others had done

With my hands held open towards her

I caught a tear in my palm

Pressing it to my lips, making way for others to kneel

I left the church.

As I stepped outside, I felt my foot twist in the other direction

It felt as if the ground itself had played some part

Slowly, I walked home with my own special miracle…

©anitadawes 2020