The French Madonna

Today I would like to share Dr Clarissa Pinkola Estes words with you - she posted these on her FB page today.

She says: did you think I was only demure?
I have been portrayed as only clean and sweet,
nice and neat, but you know, dont you,
I've been to war and in knife-fights?
Did you blieve those who said
I have no scars?
Look in my face: my one eye clear
and my one eye blind:
one eye for seeing the world as it is,
and the other for seeing the world
as it can and will be...
by way of your mercy,
by way of your love.

See yourself
the way I see you
dear Soul.
Then, ¡Arriba!
upward and onward:
Together.

Some have said

she looks like a blob;

they have taunted,

'What is the supposed to be?!"

'Driftwood?!"

A log only good for the fire!

A piece of junk.

Trash.

And I'd say

those who have eyes to see

see Our Lady,

battered by hail

torn at by rain,

chipped, splintered,

yet

nonetheless she

holds her shape...

for The Mother

is unerasable;

even were one

to grind her wood

to pulp,

the sawdust of her

would still nourish

the ground

and maketh small

roofs for ladybugs,

and nest linings

for the winged.

Even were one

to burn her down,

her ashes would be taken

by some mad artist

who would draw her

a hundred times

on the walls of caves

so the not-yet-born

would one day see her,

know her, love her.

Nothing can extinguish her,

not conquests, not vandals,

not disrespect, not ignoring

her existence.

She goes on.

She continues.

Like the ocean continues.

Like the sky continues.

She continues...

in us. As long

as we remember,

she continues.

Even when

we forget,

she continues.

We too.

Same and same.

Same and same.

Even when we remember

who we belong to,

even if we forget

even if we ignore

to whom we belong...

we still belong tight

we still belong close

we still belong cheek to cheek

to the Great Woman,

and She to us.

She cannot be erased

She cannot

be brought down

nor made small

We also, the same.

The same, the same.

We who are

Tribe of the Sacred Heart,

many of us Scar Clan...

and with love enough

to hold onto her hem--

no matter which shape

she takes,

no matter what

condition we are in.

We hold to her

and she to us.

We cannot

be brought down,

we cannot be diminished,

for our shape is hers

as hers is ours: eternal.

Siempre. Always.

Our Holy Mother
gave birth
to the God of Love,
outdoors, under
imperfect conditions.
We do not merely
celebrate this Act,
but we replicate this:
We give birth
to the God of Love
every day
in our own
human ways,
in every out of the way,
unsheltered place
under all imperfect
conditions.

Let us go forth.

- Dr Clarissa Pinkola Estes