I am lost in your gaze, Mary. What was this moment like for you? What words did you speak to the Father in your heart?
”Let it be done unto me according to Thy word. “
“My soul magnifies the greatness of the Lord.”
My life is a gift offered back to the Father in your hands.
You are with me in the darkness of my life.
“And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart”
“…you yourself a sword will pierce, so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed”
Beat and flood, with tears of blood renew:
The fruit from pain in your heart
grow in our hearts too.
You know the cragged land in us is slow to bend.
Say Yes in us,
hearts loving the Amen.
-from “Her Heart”, poem by Fr. Samuel Bellafiore, for the Behold this Heart installation
Burning
Bleeding
Broken
Blooming
heart
Bearing and
Believing
all things,
Behold this Heart
Behold His Mother –
-from “The Greatest of These (Behold this Heart)”, poem by Sr. Jordan Rose, SV, for Behold this Heart installation
Fabric dye on found fabric
“Within your wounds, hide me.
Separated from you, let me never be.”
“And the Word was made flesh,
and dwelt among us.”
Mary, you are my mother. I am little in your arms. You renew the creation of Eve in your fiat. I hear your voice speak these words anew: "...this one, at last, is bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh."
Mary, in your pregnancy, you held Christ in your body.
You are holding me – a part of your Son's mystical body.
In the death of your Son, you remained at His side.
You held Him again with your body.
“‘Come,’ says my heart, ‘seek his face’,
your face, Lord, do I seek!
Do not hide your face from me”
“Then he showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and from the Lamb.”
“If anyone thirst, let him come to me and drink… out of his heart shall flow rivers of living water.”
As the pelican mother pierces her breast to feed her young,
You open your chest,
fingering through ribs
to give me Your own heart.
In Your freedom I am made free
and my humanity, in all of its grimey frailty,
breaks open.
“A great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. She was with child and wailed aloud in pain as she labored to give birth.”
Who are you, barefooted king?
Holes in your feet
toes stained with dried blood.
In wonder, I press my hands down
feeling the wet warmth in my palms
pushing into the pierced openings.
I want to be one with you, fused
-Cor ad cor-
heart speaking to heart
It is You I cling to, my barefoot king,
come to be with me.
Shroud series
“Am I not here, who am your Mother?”
“Are you not under my care?”
“Into your hands, O God, I commend my spirit”
Go into the interior space of Mary’s “yes”
The dwelling place – the abyss – of receiving and offering
“Love’s new abyss renews my wound”