Bernadette

Privation did not spare
Your early years
Destitute
In poverty's grip
Too slow to learn
Sent to watch the sheep instead
Nature your companion
Prayer your thoughts.

One day when gathering sticks
Your life changed
Mystery's Lady
Bearing the gift of healing to this
Torn world
Gave you Her message
Scorned by the busy
Your steady faith endured
As word quickly spreads
The crowds arrive
Searching for a cure
Or the Mother's touch
Their flow like the holy water's
Not stopping since.

Bernadette
Little servant of
Hope
In a convent your later years
Despised by your superior
Her middle class pretensions
Harsh to your peasant ways
Humbly borne
In your final illness
No healing had been promised
The throes of death
Reveal your Lady and
Tender now is your repose
In silent sweetness
A fallen flower sleeping
Before the altar on high.