We Sorrow! O Blessed Lady! A Prayer for Healing

Call Her Blessed By Shiloh Sophia McCloud


We Sorrow! Oh Blessed Lady!

Our world longs for healing

I know you hear our tears falling

The polar bear father groans for his children

The butterfly pauses too long on a wayward branch

The wolf mother considers if having cubs is a good idea

The salmon, bewildered swim in circles, aching with eggs

The blue bird of happiness seeks her mate, calling, calling…

The inch worm only attempts a quarter inch this morning

The depressed human, does not want to rise from sleep today

We, male and female, two by two, we

wonder how on earth, we will survive these institutions

like marriage, government, business, tax, insurance,

medical, credit cars, foreclosures, stock market and
terminable cell phone contracts we cannot get free from.

We wonder, how we could have come so so so far,

and gotten clear on really, so little that matters. We sorrow!
We celebrate the antidote,

losing sight that we created the disease.


As for me, by some miracle I am sure you are responsible for

I give thanks as I rise with joy and with prayer on my lips. Thank you.

Daily I think after my fellow humans

as I am my brother’s keeper and my sister’s sister,

however feeble my attempts, their heart is ever in my heart.

Precisely because my joy is full – and I am able

I worry after our kind. I call to you on our behalf.

I believe that those who are able to see themselves clear

of ceaseless hopelessness, must act quickly and deftly

on behalf of others. And so my days are spent,

in inquiry and action, full of hope and hopelessness about our kind.

We cannot make sense of all of it.  We cannot find a sure path through.
Lady, make yourself clear. We sorrow! Oh Blessed Lady.

Our world needs a mother and you are it.

You, long obscured from our veiled eyes

are the way I breath. My ground of being.

There is a way through this wilderness and you know what it is.

Catch the tears of the polar bear and the butterfly, embrace the

wolf mother and her cubs, speak to the salmon and the blue bird

and restore the inch to the inch worm.

Blessed Lady, make we humans to wake up.

Living Journal

7:25 am – white writing desk.

A single Candle lit. Husband sleeping.

No kitty at my feet anymore.

Cold morning. Heater clicking.
Fast cars driving by.

A loan bird call cracks the morning.

White fuzzy slippers.

And comfort in the presence of creativity

as prayer. My first act almost every morning.

Thank you.

Shiloh Sophia