Hail, Mary

Hail Mary, full of grace, I wonder what you look like?
Did you the teenage girl catch Joseph's eye
with pretty face and figure or was it something else,
a depth to you that drew him, led him to propose?

The Lord is with thee and inside thee those nine
long months curled up inside, swimming upside
down within the rounding belly making you the punch
line to so many jokes there at the well in town.

Blessed art thou amongst women, which must 
have been a bit for them to take, same Mary they had
known for years, the stuff of fairy tales- or angel tales,
more to the point, anointed to receive the very seed
of God. 

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, 
Jesus. Raised the way I was, I pray to him
directly, rather than through you or buddies
and I'm counting on the fact that this will not offend.
I know that as a mother, it would never bother me
if those who need my sons just speak to them.

On the other hand, you have the ear of God,
I'm sure. There's something special about mothers
and their sons. So next time you're just
spending time with yours, Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners, now and at the hour 
of our death. 

I'm ready for that moment, and I'd love to see your 
son, and even more, see mine, the one perhaps 
you've met? With freckles and red hair and smile 
to warm a mother's heart? If you haven't, look 
him up, because your son must stay much busier, 
and mine would do quite well to take a walk. 

I said I'm ready for the final call, but perhaps I
should explain. I mean in terms of all the legal steps, 
the contract based on faith and signed in blood. I've got
some living left to do, and since I'm here, I guess
that's in the plan. But when I get there, after
chatting with your son and hugging mine for
several thousand years, let's get together
for a cup of something warm and spiced, okay? 
You look so sweet in all the paintings, so serene,
two qualities I find in short supply each morning
when I look into the mirror.

Amen.