silent prayer

Be then my first light,
albeit filtered
through drapes
that used to banish
the sun
and trap the night;
hand-me-down
curtains that set
my stage
against the world.

Be then my option,
my safe-card,
get out of jail
and re-start,
afresh, anew,
be my white light
and saintly
refuge, where pine
honours and revives
memories of days-gone-by,
when I had a living dad
and a dead mother.

Be thee my solace
amongst men,
be thee my answer
to latin prayers;
be thee my Mary,
giving birth to my hope
and guarding my trust,
be my promise of life
and hope,
for all eternity.