She did not ascend
through effort or merit
Heaven bent low
into the stillness of her yes

No fire
nor trumpet
but in the hush between breaths
the Divine knocked
at the door of her being

And she
unveiled and trembling
became the gate
through which the Word took breath

In her
eternity curled the uncontainable
into the contours of time
became clothed in her flesh
and waited
to be born

Tho she did not understand
she received
Tho she questioned
she obeyed

She carried
what could not be carried
yet did not break

The Maker of all
nursed at her breast
the voice that split the sea
cried out for comfort
in her arms

And when the sword pierced
and the silence returned
she remained
burning with sorrow
yet not consumed

Blessed not for grandeur
but for her emptiness
Blessed not for power
but for the quiet womb
that became
a temple of fire

O Mary
veil of mystery
ark of unspoken glory
your fiat teaches us
to become
what we cannot comprehend