As a boy I played
on the grounds of a convent
One day the sky turned green
wind ripped trees from the ground
I ran into the grotto of Mary
afraid of the wind
and the sword of lightning
that cracked above me
Then I fell asleep
under the statue
as though compelled
When I woke
the storm had passed
I was saved
The fragrance of roses was in the air
and tears from her eyes
wet my cheek
Salvatore Ala 
Sal, Such a lovely poem. It carries me back into my past for I was raised R.C. by the Nuns, the family being devout, the Irish version. Catholicism feeds one’s imagination; all those stories the nuns told us about the appearances of Mary around the world to which Sarah, most of all, has always been drawn. A couple of years ago she went to Mexico City to visit the site in Guadalupe where Mary appeared to a humble peasant centuries ago. Now Sarah says she would like to go to Fatima, Portugal. I must make sure she reads this poem. Love, Sharon.
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Thanks Sharon, true story of one of my strongest childhood memories. The convent was St. Mary’s Academy. They had lovely grounds, some of it cultivated, some of it not. If I fell off my bike I was guaranteed care by one of the nuns who race out and dress my scrape. It really was a magical place. I didn’t know Sarah was interested in Marian Apparitions. I know about Guadalupe. That must have been a very moving experience. There was also a remarkable appearance in Egypt called “Our Lady of Zeitoun,” witnessed by millions, Christian, Muslim and secular. There was also a famous appearance in Syracuse, Sicily. Well, please give my love to the family and thank you for your comment. Love, Sal.
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