Poem: The Visitation

"We are old and gray."
Elizabeth prayed.
"Do not forsake us..."
Elizabeth prayed,
"What happened to Zachary?
Do not forsake us now
that we are old and gray."

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth,
I ran all the way,
you may not believe me
now that I am here
all out of breath and dirty.
My skin's too thin,
too thin a dam, it seems that it might break,
let loose the rivers that run through me.

I ran all the way.
I feel that I have swallowed
all the trees that ever clapped
at rise or set of sun,
and all the trees that ever kissed
the moon goodnight.
I feel as big
as all outdoors.
I will somehow feed
the hungry and the sore;
that there is balm enough in me
for every pain;
or anyone who's bent with shame,
my eyes alone might make straight again.

Elizabeth, I love you so,
I don't know what to do,
or, who, except for you,
to come to.
Let me stay awhile,...
It's so good to look at you.

"You stay. You are..."
Elizabeth stopped.
"You are blessed because you..."
Elizabeth said, and stopped again.

"You're right about your eyes,"
she cried

Richard Stanley, S.J.