21 June 2012
Oh Lord you had told me
I'm most highly favoured lady,
But I'm far from highly favoured
When I'm carrying this baby.
The people in the street
Shout things as I pass
Like 'Harlot! Go back to Babylon!'
And other names that are much more crass.
They throw things at me too,
Rotten cabbages and fruit,
Gang up on me, panic me
While its your work I do.
Joseph doesn't understand
My holy task either,
He says he's going to leave me
No longer pure, a cheater.
He's says he'll do it quietly,
At least he'll give me that,
To avoid my public stoning
So this child may be begat.
Oh Lord, you've not been very fair
To your servant on this road,
Leaving her despised,
No husband, no life, no home.
Could you not make this easier?
Abba I am weak!
Find another much better,
Much stronger, less wounded and meek.
I am not worthy
Of this gargantuan task,
So take this charge from me
That is all I ask.
Mary's Prayer • Opuss № I