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Michael Bolerjack The Virgin She Was The Whitest Winter

The Virgin She Was The Whitest Winter Š 2012 Michael Bolerjack

TO MARY On the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe December 12, 2012 MB

The Virgin She Was The Whitest Winter


By the way you hold yourself I see

That is His and we are just words

Someone that comes to life simply,

He says in the one pure act of His

Yet hard, the way you climb those

Meaning, all love, all embrace, all

Mountains where butterflies dwell.

The time telling us He loves us all.

By the way you talk I hear wonder

This world of ours is not what it is.

And awe at the things that God did

It is something else, something He

For us from the beginning of Time,

Knows and shares with us at times

And still does today, especially as

When we see into the life of things

We know it not, His secrets of His

And sense some sublime wonder a

Grace hidden in the folds of a word

Little just beyond what we can see

That means more than it can mean,

Or grasp, think or say, but that we

Means by number and not by mark,

Have known at times in our loving

Means by a fine articulation of your

And in conversations without end,

Sensibility, by the differences you

In the joy of being near each other

Say and see and feel when things I

And in the peaceful fall of sleep:

Do make you think of the Creation

Am I a dream you had once upon?


Brilliant in your shining eyes

Son we share but never had, but

Bright dark / unfathomed hue

Once at His coming we shared in

By yourself you star-out skies

His love together forever: Let us

As moons ken and swim-awry.

Stay a little while in our church’s

Let us begin again little one,

Afterthoughts of answers and the

I am but a writer, and you say

Request for love never denied, as

That I reach you from there to

We never turn away for once and

There, but I say I cannot reach

For all, but turn face to face from

You anywhere but elsewhere’s

The one embrace of Him to each

Reality, the really Real, in God

Other, finding ways to Him with

You became more for me from

Our laughter and our ascensions

The way you prayed your word

To tears and falls in our meeting

Of simple prayer to Maria: The

Half way across an angry pride’s

Virgin fills your soul when you

Scream or bitterness, He is nearer

Know it not, and knots your fine

Then when in pain we try the path

Heart with mother’s love for the

Of thorns and sharp rocks that cut

Us to each other and together feel

To be the easier part of life, simple

The pain of ones about to lose the

Family with a simple way to gather

Thing we hold most dear: we two.

At holiday in a past prolonged, not

Are you ready to walk with Mary?

Yet the eternal present future time

And with me to see Him face of his

Of Christ in Heaven. O wait longer,

Face, gaze of His gaze, hear voice’s

Yet we would wait no longer from

Assurance that you didn’t wither or

Today to the Opening of the High

Didn’t turn back, but in trusting so

Gate of Heaven: swing wide doors

Like a little flower following Him?

And touch the grace of His throne:

He led you where you did not want

Longing for the pure glass and air

To go, closer to glory, but far from

And water and light: then let us be

Home, far from the thing you knew

Clear in our disclosure. Love is too.


If I were to tell your story, with

Heaven is that place you dream of

What would I begin? Your birth

In love, in hopes that will never be

In Mexico, baptism at the basilica

Denied, but how long you wait for

Of the Virgin, with your ancestors

What you cannot know in this life.

Or with your accomplishments for

Only Heaven can compare with

A life lived in the country you took

The dream of life you hold in a

For your home just before you met

Heart that too cannot be held by

Me and forever changed my song?

This earthly life: and so you are

No, I think I would start with your

Suspended between one world and

Great desire, your hope, your long

The next, being at home neither in

Awaited hope: for Justice, Mercy,

This country nor your own, waiting

A dream of a better place than now

For your true home in Heaven high

Where we live in the corruption of

Above, you almost float there by a

The city of the falling and the felled.

Force of habit, hardly touching the

Your dream is so big, very big, that

Ground, one foot, barely, you are

Nothing can hold it but the Heaven.

Only just barely here with me now.

I hope you reach the aim, the goal,

I lived a love with you, and you

The place where you over all others

Gave me all of you, everyday of our

I think must belong, for Him and

Lives together, telling me you’d do

For Her, for Them you belong too.

It all over again. Perhaps we will.


Saints and angels adore you my

Past our window in the nighttime

One little holy sweetheart, pure and

On their way to some point off the

Filled with the light of no darkness,

Map, because the map of my world

Only hopes and dreams of the great

Has only one direction, homeward.

Things to come on that future day.

With you, simple one, who cooks

On that great day, day of eternity,

And cleans and makes me feel so

Day of your wedding with Him, I

Ensconced in the places we have

Will say goodbye and give away

Lived out our days, in patience and

The one I loved without ever once

In tribulation, you have blessed me

Stopping to ask why, I did not, not

Time and time again, and bless me

Once, but took you as you were in

Yet as you sleep, softly breathing

All simplicity and grace and truth.

In the bed beside the writer writing

All you are to me is my one world,

His few lines that seem to not and

And there is no other world apart

Can never catch the meaning of so

From you, except flickering fading

Great a thing as a human being full

Images on screens, and cars that fly

Of love and longing and littleness.


O the guardian of my feelings, O

You are not, and O had I the time

The one guardian of the love I had

And the words to tell, the soul to

For you and you alone, O watcher

Climb where you are, O so high so

Of my skies, and kenning of my

Far beyond my mistakes and base

Untrue art, O the sentinel of souls,

Fantasies, images and words without

O the stayer of my staggering, my

A stopping, O you! You caught me!

One and sole support, O mistress

You broke my fall, you never had a

Of my heart, O the keeper of my

Way to know, but it was you, you

Trials and secrets, O the one who

Who kept me from the darkness of

Did not walk away, did not turn

The life I once called a life, but was

From me, but came and came again

No life without you, for you gave

With full knowledge though I did

Me more than I had ever known or

Not know, and could not know the

Thought that I could know, some

Passage to the place you dwell in,

Thing completely unexpected and

O the littleness of the things you

Utterly unimaginable: You gave me

Are, and O the terribleness of what

You, in all of you, every single time.


If words could say it, we would

If words could only disclose and

Say it once, and that once would be

Not just declare and describe, if

Enough, we’d understand the thing

Words could be like light from the

Itself that we had intended to say.

Sun that not only illuminates the

But words only point at it, what

Visible, but warms and gives us the

We want to get at, that thing we

Pleasure of the heat of life, if my

Know not what that will fulfill the

Words could shine radiance on the

Desires we feel, the need for love.

One I love, then words would do.

If words were enough we would

These things, these letters, sent to

Not need to touch each other in the

My sentinel, they aim true but can

Way we do, or gaze upon another’s

They find you in the place you live,

Smile, or see the majesty of faces.

Far from any language but feeling?


You! You are my subject, but not

The objects in my life consume me

Mine, not mine. You are not my

Instead of me taking them, but you,

Subject because you are not my

You do not take me but far rather

Object, you elude that binary gap

Give me a newer self than the one

Of thought and en-own me with a

That I had before, having made me

Love past telling, a love unrelated

All over, in that you are what God

To space and time and relativities,

Intended, the love made flesh, the

That knows only one relation in

Body of desire, neither subject nor

Life, a field of loves that spread on

Object, but the desirability of the

The level way that the Lord makes

Love itself seen in the shining of

For you to call out and not finding,

The light, and in the quiet of silent

Yet still you love to call love’s call.

Night, most in the peaceful repose.


You are all these things but most of

And in all the sweetness of your

All you are the salt that can never

Call, you also rail at the unjust and

Lose its “sabor,” that despite the

Those in power, but do not see the

Labors of love does not lose itself,

Corruption in those around you, too.

Does not abandon the truth for a lie

The lie is the way the people live, but

And does not speak except as the

Not you, you who live a truth without

Voice of one in her own wilderness

Telling, in the desire for a story and

And wildnesses, crying to be heard.

The need for the epilogue, the action

O! The worlds you could enlighten

Of the completion of the tale told.

And the grace you would bestow on

Life is in this, you see, our story

Men and women, who having their

Ends in Heaven, and God gives all

Hearts hardened, can’t comprehend.

Other names in the end and you

O! The fastness of your guard and

Then become in truth what I said

The sureness of your sentence, O!

You were to me, the princess of my

The charm of your song and the

Passage, and in His eyes you are

Voice of you, prophetess of love.

Already the one that men speak of.


That women dream we all should

There is no better place for you

Know, but of what they dream no

Than the center of your being, so

Man can tell, and so it is here with

Remain a while in that better place

Me tonight, not knowing your very

And let me imagine its goodness.

Dreams, the place where you live

The good does not leave us if we

Free and still and enjoy yourself in

Do not wish for itt to go, and you,

Complete care and regard, but also

Tenacious one, hold it with both of

In abandon and with a shout of Yes!

Your hands and tightly you draw it.,

Yes! The victory over the things of

Even if you must let me go, even if

This world and the prescient hold

You have to, do not let go of that

You take on the things to come as

Thing you hold in your heart past

You dream and sleep in the heart.

All telling, wordless, truthful, real.


A love foretold past all telling, you

Warrant except your smile and

The prophetess of the dream I had,

Your invitation to marry if we

You the truth in the night of false

Could but love, my life would

Hopes, false starts, blind dates and

Never wait so long again, so long

My miracle madness, you’re the one

As I am with you, my principal you

That waited for me without knowing

Said, or was it principle? Our reason

Whom I might be, O! sure raceme of,

Or your all in all? In faith we hope,

O! surety of the avalanche, I too in my

In charity we find, and you giving,

Way waiting wait-less for the coming

Gave all to me and gave me a reason

Perfection and what we now call grace,

And the princess storied, light for my

Though of a time I only thought I knew

Nights, rest for my aching, sheltering

Not whence nor ever why but without

For my soul, in words without whys.


The unity of truth and goodness

Our home, and the works of love

And beauty is a moral quality I find

That we hope one day will teach us

In you: I told them so, if they’d but

To hold truth more gently, touch

Hear, of the thesis and theme of

Beauty but grazing it just so and

My song, the tomb of it I build

See with eyes of peace and desire

And with you we dig it and we

Mingled the joys of life together,

Build it, the foundation sure and

Of our communing, of our summer

The time full but almost never

Late and winter near, of our snows

Enough, we look to each other and

And the warmth we found despite

See Him in ourselves, where He

The cold of December the year I

Does not hide, but can be seen by

Began again and answered His call,

The things he has made, our love,

Because he said become who I am.


In our little way we abide, stay

Share it, give freely of your faith

Close, wait, watch, become the

And whatever else is asked of you,

Ones who sentinel for others, I see

As if the Beloved asks you Himself

You keeping faith in Him and me.

For the things He knows you can.

If we but keep it, though, what will

There is no other truth to the world

Become of that faith, must not we

Than our being obliged to love one

Make it grow? And so the stream

Another, to seek arrival, to shine

Of life would take our faith away.

Light, to show beauty, to act well.


The flower she sent she sent for You, because I asked, but it was For you, because you are a one that Is littler, very small and close to

The truth that God loves the little Things in life, that He does not Appreciate success, but sees us try Despite our failures and gives the

Very things we cannot live without Like love and light and the life of Which we could not give ourselves A day if it were not for His giving.

Turn then like a flower to that One And find in Him what she found, a Hope to bring her out of despair, And a large, calm, bright pleasure.


O! How you look in your pale Greens and pretty pinks and in Your lazurous purples, in shades of Red, and in the blacks and blues.

O! How you sound, so small, the Little one, and yet how you can tell Off the high and mighty and pull The wrathful princes from thrones

That do not suit the men of great Aggrandizement today, moneyed And eyeful, driving desire ninety Miles an hour to hell all in a hurry.

O! How you sleep the sleep of White snows and princess beauties, Of little girls, of fragility and deep, Deep peace, as a world unto Him.


Sing the solemnity, sing the grace, Sing the procession to the basilica Of Guadalupe, the site of your dear Baptism, singular moment of your

Consecration, of your en-ownment By Him, of your making to Her Your first profession, and knowing Thereafter only what she wanted You to know. O! Sing solemnity!


You added the salsa, you added the Salt, you added the spice and “sabor� To me, salted me in love and then Peppered me with kisses and hope.

You put me up there in the stars And did not let me fall to earth, You said tell me the moon, so I told You, and when you asked, I did it

Again, told the moon to you, but Not for show but because you had Said that if I told you the moon You would tell me my own star.

That star you showed me a day Ago, near your moon, which shines Brighter, but by which it lays a line Of constellation with all the Heaven.


O! Solemn the muse, but not too

Sing to Her and of Her and do not

Somber, death cannot hold us, and

Worry what others think, for there

There is joy in our solemnity with

Are no others outside the circle of

Her, the one who brought us here.

The church which she is building for

O! If you would! Tell all and tell

Those who would kneel, nay, must

All yet again and leave nothing that

Kneel before crosses and altars and

Is unsaid, leave nothing to chance

Before the image of one whom God

And nothing to fate, but freely sing

Chose before time began to hold Him

Of the grace of ones above and

Within Her womb and then give Him

Even with us here as we speak and

To us, just as He gave Her to nations,

Spell and tell the story of a love

For the angels and for the saints, and

That has no other, and thus has all.

For the glories in a vessel of most pure

If truth be told, it remains true, but

Devotion, of the ark which bore more

The truth untold is a fiction good

Than the manna and more than the law,

For nothing. So say what you can,

Of the throne of the wisdom of the One

But sing the rest, singing for Her.

Who is and Who still is coming today.


Beside still waters saints abide,

Do not worry if God desires a pain

And we stay and remain in our task

For us, do not worry about whether

Of life. O the poor, O the little

God is good or the one all great

Ones who depend, O sentiments

Embracing principle. All in all.

Of sentinels alert in the word of

For this all in all is purely good

God, who have the mind of Christ

And does cause evil. That said,

And suffer with and in and through,

He willed the suffering of His Son

For all the little ones. I am for you.

And chastiseth all whom He calls..

Sufferings of Job you read and

Remember: God is LOVE, and is

Find the mystery of sin and pain

For us, and with Him for us, who

And wonder, did God comprehend

Can be against us? No one, nada,

Him? Did God cause the trouble in

Nothing besides. Evil may afflict

Life that all of us Jobs feel today?

And afflictions of life are real, yet

Let us say there is a higher reason

Our redeemer liveth, and the great

And we do not suffer in vain or in

Glory waiting for us outweighs far

Vanity but for His glory. Let it be.

All the trouble of the world as it is.


The One to come would have us as

Despite sins and pain, we have our

We are, in our need and pain and in

Lives and we have one hope, and

Our afflictions, for remember, He

One faith, and really our LOVE is

Chose it for Himself. Thus, Life is

Just one, in Him. Understand Him.

Good, and never to be forsaken.

He would be loved. He is needed,

Find the reason to go on living,

Although most care not, know not,

Not “as if” there is a purpose and

What they do, still there is a lack,

Goal, which is mere art for art’s

Even when we have no task or no

Sake, an aesthetic comfortableness

Trials to endure, an emptiness that

To keep us from the hell of known

We know only God fills. O My God!

And unknown fears and trials, the

If you would fill us with goodness,

Tribulations all must suffer for the

That you are, so that in humility and

Glory of God, but rather find the

In patience and in perseverance we

Real meaning of life, God and His

May wait with joy and hope for the

Plan for you personally, for He is

Revelations to come, declared in the

The reason for the way things are.

Book, but soon to be disclosed for

All flesh to wonder, to fear, to awe

Word, which comprehends us and

Over, to welcome or not, for that

Wants to be understood. So, know

Apocalypse we live, the unveiling

Little one, that in your sufferings

Of the reason for our faith, the true

He and all His saints too endured.


You sit or recline, eyes almost Closed, resting your frame for Awhile, till the tasks of life call You away to work, to run, to do.

But in your quiet moment of rest, Beside the still waters of the one Love that we share in, know I think Of you, and I am with you always.


You have been on my mind this

What we are now we hardly know,

Morning, and no bird sang, but you

So how would we know what we

Laughed when I called your name,

Will be? Yet we hope in the one

And no phone rang, but love bells

Promise of peace. O sender of the

Knelled, no deep tone, no dearth or

One peace that surpasses all of our

Death, but a reminder to call us to

Ability to understand, O, You, who

Greater appreciation of the way we

Sent us, send to Marinela Sentinela

Love and what we may become.

A greater than hoped for blessing.


Oh my little one, wanting to go to

Great Gift of life itself, which has a

Some place and to do some thing,

Glory of its own, which has a truth

You have found your miracle, you

Of its own, but for us, our lives are

Have found life in all our living.

Only what He makes us to be, for

But what then is life? The poets ask.

The glory that you do not see or seek

Happy are you if you are able to

Is what He will give, His own of His

Spell the question, if God grants

Very Self, His very own peace, His

You the capacity for wonder at His

Very glory, the single love we live.


Little gifts all in a row, your words And smiles bring me like signs and The way to my home I hope to find, With you a place of rest and peace.

Perhaps the points along the way Are not so restful, not so filled with That peace we desire, but God gives Us this life as the way, not the goal.

The way itself is a gift, but the gift Above all others is God Himself, The Giver gives Himself, and we Feel we know already this is true.

For religion is a kind of feeling of Faith as much as an assent to truth, And we depend on Jesus and Mary As children on their very parents.


O! The one life within us and Abroad! The poets cry, and find in Our lives one love unbreakable, an Unshattered, sheltering heart of

Being that is as much in the flesh As in a word, as much in the bread As in the light, as much in the true Smile of a child as in any teacher.


Time to go they say and you get up And make your way, but wait if You will, stay with me awhile and Hear the words I have for you,

Not so much have as do, as be or Become, a net work of words made Over by you, for you, inspiration of My songs without music or rhyme.


You, you did not say, you did not Say let me go, though I said that Much, and you, you stayed, though I might have wandered without.

Without you I am almost nothing, Next to nothing, but with you I Have a chance to win the light. You are so much you don’t know.


O! Heavens above! The stars at

That we obtained in our own place

Night told of a great day to come,

That morning before dawn, that we

But we saw beauty not futurity,

Did stand and we did see, and knew

Not knowing that moral beauty is

That that was like the snowfall of

Even in the stars at night, in sun

The day before, a Gift from God,

And moon and all God’s creation.

Faintly falling, still falling faintly,

Tell all of His one love for all His

White stars, whiter snow, words,

Creatures, His love for each and

His words whitening the world.

Every star that he causes to burn in

On a brighter day we might have

Empty space, though not empty, for

Missed the meaning, though we

There is the connection of star to

Lived it, might have missed our turn.

Star that he makes for our benefit,

But today we knew without mistake.


Absolutely, there is no more abyss

Gives to those who gather the

That God did not cross for us in His

Fruits of the Spirit, the joy and

Own Crossing, no pit that was dug

Peace, in patience and self-control,

That He has not filled for those

In love not with imitation but with

Whom He loves, Mountains He

One initiation into the life of God.

Makes easy hills to climb, and

We hold all dear: All things I hold

Beauty He sets on the pathways

For you in this cup of words, from

For us to Amen! And Amen! In

Which I pour my heart toward you.

Adoring adornments and entertain

O! That the cup overflows right now

And yet so great Truths placed for

So that you will hear the word of love

Us along the way. O! the saving

He gave me to share, not to throw or

Truth of grace, O! the one love He

Scatter, but in these our reconciliation.


For anything bad there is

The truth of the Trinity and the all

Something that is good, but in

In all and the apocalypse and the

Heaven there are goods without

Twelfth and the seventh Heaven,

Any bad, and good without end.

And what we hope for, this will be.

Almost. He said I AM the limit,

What we hope for is not a number,

The beginning and the end of all.

But the number is a sign standing

We know our limits and to be with

For our reality, and numbers are the

Him we must complete our total.

Structure of the world to come too.

We must live the numbers of the

We all want to make a name for

Stations of our path and I went

Ourselves, and some do, and no

From five to six to zero to one to

One wants to be a number alone,

Three and then four, I could tell

Like a computation in the scheme

You, every number has a meaning,

Of a world system that denies our

But only seven of them are most

Truth for a lie of its own making.

Important to us, and in stability at

Nevertheless, everyone has both a

Our four square we will be taught

Name and a number. We are both.

The names may change and the

Truth is definite and can be

Numbers, too, but there is a reality

Numbered, obeys limits, and does

That is beside, underneath the signs

Not slip and slide, or grate, like

And that is the direction of them,

Words, but tells shapes of things

All pointing the way to assist us in

We will become as we realize all

Our journey for arrival. The mere

The points at once, all the signs

Indefinite is not a number, so the

Of names, places and things at One,

Deconstruction cannot be true

When we become in the all in all.


Words ring in your mind and you

O! Marinela Sentinela, watcher of

Try to hold them fast, though the

My life and of our life together, the

Thoughts slip away and words do

One life lived for Them, you are so

Not hold like the feeling of you.

Much more than what you know

Yet go over the words again and

And so much more than words can

Find a truth that may be what I

Say, but He said seek and find, and

Intended when I wrote them for

In a way I have sought you all my

You, or may be something else

Life, and whatever else I found I

He would have you to know, for

Found after finding Him at least in

He may well choose to convey

All the seeking and finding I found

More than I could ever know or

You, found you for your truth I say,

Hope to know with my own words.

Your passion, complexity and grace.

My own words? Like you, not

And in all, your all in all, your great

Mine, not mine, but only for a time,

Simplicity, littleness, held in a single

As if they were mine, yet still in the

Compass, gathered all my feeling, as

Giving of them made real for you.

the Virgin she was the whitest winter.

Your passion may tire and life

Do not bother to add to your own

Itself seem too complex, but if you

Simplicity and littleness, do not

Make the simple effort as I know

Worry over issues or the problems

You always have and think you

Of the world, yet remain in it with

Always will, then grace in your life

Hope, my sentinel, my witness for

Will not be lacking, and you’ll find

The witness, my Heaven sent in the

The way, whether you know the

Midst of my Apocalypse, a sender,

Time or the place, your name or

An address, a destination, my little

Your number, for grace defines us,

All in all before the greater One to

Perfects us and completes us, to be

Come, where we will be found and

With Him in embrace, not a total

Say no more, the work is done, the

Count in the making, the plus one.

Truth is claro, perfecto, complete.

The Virgin She Was The Whitest Winter  

a poetic sequence on the woman, wife and mother

The Virgin She Was The Whitest Winter  

a poetic sequence on the woman, wife and mother