The Virgin She Was the Whitest Winter by Michael Bolerjack

7/31/2019 The Virgin She Was the Whitest Winter by Michael Bolerjack

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Michael Bolerjack

The Virgin She Was

the Whitest Winter


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1

By the way you hold yourself I see

Someone that comes to life simply,

Yet hard, the way you climb those

Mountains where butterflies dwell.

By the way you talk I hear wonder

And awe at the things that God did

For us from the beginning of Time,

And still does today, especially as

We know it not, His secrets of His

Grace hidden in the folds of a word

That means more than it can mean,

Means by number and not by mark,

Means by a fine articulation of your

Sensibility, by the differences you

Say and see and feel when things I

Do make you think of the Creation

That is His and we are just words

He says in the one pure act of His

Meaning, all love, all embrace, all

The time telling us He loves us all.

This world of ours is not what it is.

It is something else, something He

Knows and shares with us at times

When we see into the life of things

And sense some sublime wonder a

Little just beyond what we can see

Or grasp, think or say, but that we

Have known at times in our loving

And in conversations without end,

In the joy of being near each other

And in the peaceful fall of sleep:

Am I a dream you had once upon?


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2

Brilliant in your shining eyes

Bright dark / unfathomed hue

By yourself you star-out skies

As moons ken and swim-awry.

Let us begin again little one,

I am but a writer, and you say

That I reach you from there to

There, but I say I cannot reach

You anywhere but elsewheres

Reality, the really Real, in God

You became more for me from

The way you prayed your word

Of simple prayer to Maria: The

Virgin fills your soul when you

Know it not, and knots your fine

Heart with mothers love for the

Son we share but never had, but

Once at His coming we shared in

His love together forever: Let us

Stay a little while in our churchs

Afterthoughts of answers and the

Request for love never denied, as

We never turn away for once and

For all, but turn face to face from

The one embrace of Him to each

Other, finding ways to Him with

Our laughter and our ascensions

To tears and falls in our meeting

Half way across an angry prides

Scream or bitterness, He is nearer

Then when in pain we try the path

Of thorns and sharp rocks that cut


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Us to each other and together feel

The pain of ones about to lose the

Thing we hold most dear: we two.

Are you ready to walk with Mary?

And with me to see Him face of his

Face, gaze of His gaze, hear voices

Assurance that you didnt wither or

Didnt turn back, but in trusting so

Like a little flower following Him?

He led you where you did not want

To go, closer to glory, but far from

Home, far from the thing you knew

To be the easier part of life, simple

Family with a simple way to gather

At holiday in a past prolonged, not

Yet the eternal present future time

Of Christ in Heaven. O wait longer,

Yet we would wait no longer from

Today to the Opening of the High

Gate of Heaven: swing wide doors

And touch the grace of His throne:

Longing for the pure glass and air

And water and light: then let us be

Clear in our disclosure. Love is too.


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3

If I were to tell your story, with

What would I begin? Your birth

In Mexico, baptism at the basilica

Of the Virgin, with your ancestors

Or with your accomplishments for

A life lived in the country you took

For your home just before you met

Me and forever changed my song?

No, I think I would start with your

Great desire, your hope, your long

Awaited hope: for Justice, Mercy,

A dream of a better place than now

Where we live in the corruption of

The city of the falling and the felled.

Your dream is so big, very big, that

Nothing can hold it but the Heaven.

Heaven is that place you dream of

In love, in hopes that will never be

Denied, but how long you wait for

What you cannot know in this life.

Only Heaven can compare with

The dream of life you hold in a

Heart that too cannot be held by

This earthly life: and so you are

Suspended between one world and

The next, being at home neither in

This country nor your own, waiting

For your true home in Heaven high

Above, you almost float there by a

Force of habit, hardly touching the

Ground, one foot, barely, you are

Only just barely here with me now.


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I hope you reach the aim, the goal,

The place where you over all others

I think must belong, for Him and

For Her, for Them you belong too.

I lived a love with you, and you

Gave me all of you, everyday of our

Lives together, telling me youd do

It all over again. Perhaps we will.


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4

Saints and angels adore you my

One little holy sweetheart, pure and

Filled with the light of no darkness,

Only hopes and dreams of the great

Things to come on that future day.

On that great day, day of eternity,

Day of your wedding with Him, I

Will say goodbye and give away

The one I loved without ever once

Stopping to ask why, I did not, not

Once, but took you as you were in

All simplicity and grace and truth.

All you are to me is my one world,

And there is no other world apart

From you, except flickering fading

Images on screens, and cars that fly

Past our window in the nighttime

On their way to some point off the

Map, because the map of my world

Has only one direction, homeward.

With you, simple one, who cooks

And cleans and makes me feel so

Ensconced in the places we have

Lived out our days, in patience and

In tribulation, you have blessed me

Time and time again, and bless me

Yet as you sleep, softly breathing

In the bed beside the writer writing

His few lines that seem to not and

Can never catch the meaning of so

Great a thing as a human being full

Of love and longing and littleness.


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O the guardian of my feelings, O

The one guardian of the love I had

For you and you alone, O watcher

Of my skies, and kenning of my

Untrue art, O the sentinel of souls,

O the stayer of my staggering, my

One and sole support, O mistress

Of my heart, O the keeper of my

Trials and secrets, O the one who

Did not walk away, did not turn

From me, but came and came again

With full knowledge though I did

Not know, and could not know the

Passage to the place you dwell in,

O the littleness of the things you

Are, and O the terribleness of what

You are not, and O had I the time

And the words to tell, the soul to

Climb where you are, O so high so

Far beyond my mistakes and base

Fantasies, images and words without

A stopping, O you! You caught me!

You broke my fall, you never had a

Way to know, but it was you, you

Who kept me from the darkness of

The life I once called a life, but was

No life without you, for you gave

Me more than I had ever known or

Thought that I could know, some

Thing completely unexpected and

Utterly unimaginable: You gave me

You, in all of you, every single time.


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6

If words could say it, we would

Say it once, and that once would be

Enough, wed understand the thing

Itself that we had intended to say.

But words only point at it, what

We want to get at, that thing we

Know not what that will fulfill the

Desires we feel, the need for love.

If words were enough we would

Not need to touch each other in the

Way we do, or gaze upon anothers

Smile, or see the majesty of faces.

If words could only disclose and

Not just declare and describe, if

Words could be like light from the

Sun that not only illuminates the

Visible, but warms and gives us the

Pleasure of the heat of life, if my

Words could shine radiance on the

One I love, then words would do.

These things, these letters, sent to

My sentinel, they aim true but can

They find you in the place you live,

Far from any language but feeling?


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You! You are my subject, but not

Mine, not mine. You are not my

Subject because you are not my

Object, you elude that binary gap

Of thought and en-own me with a

Love past telling, a love unrelated

To space and time and relativities,

That knows only one relation in

Life, a field of loves that spread on

The level way that the Lord makes

For you to call out and not finding,

Yet still you love to call loves call.

The objects in my life consume me

Instead of me taking them, but you,

You do not take me but far rather

Give me a newer self than the one

That I had before, having made me

All over, in that you are what God

Intended, the love made flesh, the

Body of desire, neither subject nor

Object, but the desirability of the

Love itself seen in the shining of

The light, and in the quiet of silent

Night, most in the peaceful repose.


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8

You are all these things but most of

All you are the salt that can never

Lose its sabor, that despite the

Labors of love does not lose itself,

Does not abandon the truth for a lie

And does not speak except as the

Voice of one in her own wilderness

And wildnesses, crying to be heard.

O! The worlds you could enlighten

And the grace you would bestow on

Men and women, who having their

Hearts hardened, cant comprehend.

O! The fastness of your guard and

The sureness of your sentence, O!

The charm of your song and the

Voice of you, prophetess of love.

And in all the sweetness of your

Call, you also rail at the unjust and

Those in power, but do not see the

Corruption in those around you, too.

The lie is the way the people live, but

Not you, you who live a truth without

Telling, in the desire for a story and

The need for the epilogue, the action

Of the completion of the tale told.

Life is in this, you see, our story

Ends in Heaven, and God gives all

Other names in the end and you

Then become in truth what I said

You were to me, the princess of my

Passage, and in His eyes you are

Already the one that men speak of.


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That women dream we all should

Know, but of what they dream no

Man can tell, and so it is here with

Me tonight, not knowing your very

Dreams, the place where you live

Free and still and enjoy yourself in

Complete care and regard, but also

In abandon and with a shout of Yes!

Yes! The victory over the things of

This world and the prescient hold

You take on the things to come as

You dream and sleep in the heart.

There is no better place for you

Than the center of your being, so

Remain a while in that better place

And let me imagine its goodness.

The good does not leave us if we

Do not wish for itt to go, and you,

Tenacious one, hold it with both of

Your hands and tightly you draw it.,

Even if you must let me go, even if

You have to, do not let go of that

Thing you hold in your heart past

All telling, wordless, truthful, real.


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A love foretold past all telling, you

The prophetess of the dream I had,

You the truth in the night of false

Hopes, false starts, blind dates and

My miracle madness, youre the one

That waited for me without knowing

Whom I might be, O! sure raceme of,

O! surety of the avalanche, I too in my

Way waiting wait-less for the coming

Perfection and what we now call grace,

Though of a time I only thought I knew

Not whence nor ever why but without

Warrant except your smile and

Your invitation to marry if we

Could but love, my life would

Never wait so long again, so long

As I am with you, my principal you

Said, or was it principle? Our reason

Or your all in all? In faith we hope,

In charity we find, and you giving,

Gave all to me and gave me a reason

And the princess storied, light for my

Nights, rest for my aching, sheltering

For my soul, in words without whys.


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The unity of truth and goodness

And beauty is a moral quality I find

In you: I told them so, iftheyd but

Hear, of the thesis and theme of

My song, the tomb of it I build

And with you we dig it and we

Build it, the foundation sure and

The time full but almost never

Enough, we look to each other and

See Him in ourselves, where He

Does not hide, but can be seen by

The things he has made, our love,

Our home, and the works of love

That we hope one day will teach us

To hold truth more gently, touch

Beauty but grazing it just so and

See with eyes of peace and desire

Mingled the joys of life together,

Of our communing, of our summer

Late and winter near, of our snows

And the warmth we found despite

The cold of December the year I

Began again and answered His call,

Because he said become who I am.


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In our little way we abide, stay

Close, wait, watch, become the

Ones who sentinel for others, I see

You keeping faith in Him and me.

If we but keep it, though, what will

Become of that faith, must not we

Make it grow? And so the stream

Of life would take our faith away.

Share it, give freely of your faith

And whatever else is asked of you,

As if the Beloved asks you Himself

For the things He knows you can.

There is no other truth to the world

Than our being obliged to love one

Another, to seek arrival, to shine

Light, to show beauty, to act well.


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The flower she sent she sent for

You, because I asked, but it was

For you, because you are a one that

Is littler, very small and close to

The truth that God loves the little

Things in life, that He does not

Appreciate success, but sees us try

Despite our failures and gives the

Very things we cannot live without

Like love and light and the life of

Which we could not give ourselves

A day if it were not for His giving.

Turn then like a flower to that One

And find in Him what she found, a

Hope to bring her out of despair,

And a large, calm, bright pleasure.


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O! How you look in your pale

Greens and pretty pinks and in

Your lazurous purples, in shades of

Red, and in the blacks and blues.

O! How you sound, so small, the

Little one, and yet how you can tell

Off the high and mighty and pull

The wrathful princes from thrones

That do not suit the men of great

Aggrandizement today, moneyed

And eyeful, driving desire ninety

Miles an hour to hell all in a hurry.

O! How you sleep the sleep of

White snows and princess beauties,

Of little girls, of fragility and deep,

Deep peace, as a world unto Him.


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Sing the solemnity, sing the grace,

Sing the procession to the basilica

Of Guadalupe, the site of your dear

Baptism, singular moment of your

Consecration, of your en-ownment

By Him, of your making to Her

Your first profession, and knowing

Thereafter only what she wanted

You to know. O! Sing solemnity!


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You added the salsa, you added the

Salt, you added the spice and sabor

To me, salted me in love and then

Peppered me with kisses and hope.

You put me up there in the stars

And did not let me fall to earth,

You said tell me the moon, so I told

You, and when you asked, I did it

Again, told the moon to you, but

Not for show but because you had

Said that if I told you the moon

You would tell me my own star.

That star you showed me a day

Ago, near your moon, which shines

Brighter, but by which it lays a line

Of constellation with all the Heaven.


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O! Solemn the muse, but not too

Somber, death cannot hold us, and

There is joy in our solemnity with

Her, the one who brought us here.

O! If you would! Tell all and tell

All yet again and leave nothing that

Is unsaid, leave nothing to chance

And nothing to fate, but freely sing

Of the grace of ones above and

Even with us here as we speak and

Spell and tell the story of a love

That has no other, and thus has all.

If truth be told, it remains true, but

The truth untold is a fiction good

For nothing. So say what you can,

But sing the rest, singing for Her.

Sing to Her and of Her and do not

Worry what others think, for there

Are no others outside the circle of

The church which she is building for

Those who would kneel, nay, must

Kneel before crosses and altars and

Before the image of one whom God

Chose before time began to hold Him

Within Her womb and then give Him

To us, just as He gave Her to nations,

For the angels and for the saints, and

For the glories in a vessel of most pure

Devotion, of the ark which bore more

Than the manna and more than the law,

Of the throne of the wisdom of the One

Who is and Who still is coming today.


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Beside still waters saints abide,

And we stay and remain in our task

Of life. O the poor, O the little

Ones who depend, O sentiments

Of sentinels alert in the word of

God, who have the mind of Christ

And suffer with and in and through,

For all the little ones. I am for you.

Sufferings of Job you read and

Find the mystery of sin and pain

And wonder, did God comprehend

Him? Did God cause the trouble in

Life that all of us Jobs feel today?

Let us say there is a higher reason

And we do not suffer in vain or in

Vanity but for His glory. Let it be.

Do not worry if God desires a pain

For us, do not worry about whether

God is good or the one all great

Embracing principle. All in all.

For this all in all is purely good

And does cause evil. That said,

He willed the suffering of His Son

And chastiseth all whom He calls..

Remember: God is LOVE, and is

For us, and with Him for us, who

Can be against us? No one, nada,

Nothing besides. Evil may afflict

And afflictions of life are real, yet

Our redeemer liveth, and the great

Glory waiting for us outweighs far

All the trouble of the world as it is.


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The One to come would have us as

We are, in our need and pain and in

Our afflictions, for remember, He

Chose it for Himself. Thus, Life is

Good, and never to be forsaken.

Find the reason to go on living,

Not as if there is a purpose and

Goal, which is mere art for arts

Sake, an aesthetic comfortableness

To keep us from the hell of known

And unknown fears and trials, the

Tribulations all must suffer for the

Glory of God, but rather find the

Real meaning of life, God and His

Plan for you personally, for He is

The reason for the way things are.

Despite sins and pain, we have our

Lives and we have one hope, and

One faith, and really our LOVE is

Just one, in Him. Understand Him.

He would be loved. He is needed,

Although most care not, know not,

What they do, still there is a lack,

Even when we have no task or no

Trials to endure, an emptiness that

We know only God fills. O My God!

If you would fill us with goodness,

That you are, so that in humility and

In patience and in perseverance we

May wait with joy and hope for the

Revelations to come, declared in the

Book, but soon to be disclosed for


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All flesh to wonder, to fear, to awe

Over, to welcome or not, for that

Apocalypse we live, the unveiling

Of the reason for our faith, the true

Word, which comprehends us and

Wants to be understood. So, know

Little one, that in your sufferings

He and all His saints too endured.


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You sit or recline, eyes almost

Closed, resting your frame for

Awhile, till the tasks of life call

You away to work, to run, to do.

But in your quiet moment of rest,

Beside the still waters of the one

Love that we share in, know I think

Of you, and I am with you always.


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You have been on my mind this

Morning, and no bird sang, but you

Laughed when I called your name,

And no phone rang, but love bells

Knelled, no deep tone, no dearth or

Death, but a reminder to call us to

Greater appreciation of the way we

Love and what we may become.

What we are now we hardly know,

So how would we know what we

Will be? Yet we hope in the one

Promise of peace. O sender of the

One peace that surpasses all of our

Ability to understand, O, You, who

Sent us, send to Marinela Sentinela

A greater than hoped for blessing.


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Oh my little one, wanting to go to

Some place and to do some thing,

You have found your miracle, you

Have found life in all our living.

But what then is life? The poets ask.

Happy are you if you are able to

Spell the question, if God grants

You the capacity for wonder at His

Great Gift of life itself, which has a

Glory of its own, which has a truth

Of its own, but for us, our lives are

Only what He makes us to be, for

The glory that you do not see or seek

Is what He will give, His own of His

Very Self, His very own peace, His

Very glory, the single love we live.


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Little gifts all in a row, your words

And smiles bring me like signs and

The way to my home I hope to find,

With you a place of rest and peace.

Perhaps the points along the way

Are not so restful, not so filled with

That peace we desire, but God gives

Us this life as the way, not the goal.

The way itself is a gift, but the gift

Above all others is God Himself,

The Giver gives Himself, and we

Feel we know already this is true.

For religion is a kind of feeling of

Faith as much as an assent to truth,

And we depend on Jesus and Mary

As children on their very parents.


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O! The one life within us and

Abroad! The poets cry, and find in

Our lives one love unbreakable, an

Unshattered, sheltering heart of

Being that is as much in the flesh

As in a word, as much in the bread

As in the light, as much in the true

Smile of a child as in any teacher.


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Time to go they say and you get up

And make your way, but wait if

You will, stay with me awhile and

Hear the words I have for you,

Not so much have as do, as be or

Become, a net work of words made

Over by you, for you, inspiration of

My songs without music or rhyme.


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You, you did not say, you did not

Say let me go, though I said that

Much, and you, you stayed, though

I might have wandered without.

Without you I am almost nothing,

Next to nothing, but with you I

Have a chance to win the light.

You are so much you dont know.


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O! Heavens above! The stars at

Night told of a great day to come,

But we saw beauty not futurity,

Not knowing that moral beauty is

Even in the stars at night, in sun

And moon and all Gods creation.

Tell all of His one love for all His

Creatures, His love for each and

Every star that he causes to burn in

Empty space, though not empty, for

There is the connection of star to

Star that he makes for our benefit,

That we obtained in our own place

That morning before dawn, that we

Did stand and we did see, and knew

That that was like the snowfall of

The day before, a Gift from God,

Faintly falling, still falling faintly,

White stars, whiter snow, words,

His words whitening the world.

On a brighter day we might have

Missed the meaning, though we

Lived it, might have missed our turn.

But today we knew without mistake.


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Absolutely, there is no more abyss

That God did not cross for us in His

Own Crossing, no pit that was dug

That He has not filled for those

Whom He loves, Mountains He

Makes easy hills to climb, and

Beauty He sets on the pathways

For us to Amen! And Amen! In

Adoring adornments and entertain

And yet so great Truths placed for

Us along the way. O! the saving

Truth of grace, O! the one love He

Gives to those who gather the

Fruits of the Spirit, the joy and

Peace, in patience and self-control,

In love not with imitation but with

One initiation into the life of God.

We hold all dear: All things I hold

For you in this cup of words, from

Which I pour my heart toward you.

O! That the cup overflows right now

So that you will hear the word of love

He gave me to share, not to throw or

Scatter, but in these our reconciliation.


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For anything bad there is

Something that is good, but in

Heaven there are goods without

Any bad, and good without end.

Almost. He said I AM the limit,

The beginning and the end of all.

We know our limits and to be with

Him we must complete our total.

We must live the numbers of the

Stations of our path and I went

From five to six to zero to one to

Three and then four, I could tell

You, every number has a meaning,

But only seven of them are most

Important to us, and in stability at

Our four square we will be taught

The truth of the Trinity and the all

In all and the apocalypse and the

Twelfth and the seventh Heaven,

And what we hope for, this will be.

What we hope for is not a number,

But the number is a sign standing

For our reality, and numbers are the

Structure of the world to come too.

We all want to make a name for

Ourselves, and some do, and no

One wants to be a number alone,

Like a computation in the scheme

Of a world system that denies our

Truth for a lie of its own making.

Nevertheless, everyone has both a

Name and a number. We are both.


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The names may change and the

Numbers, too, but there is a reality

That is beside, underneath the signs

And that is the direction of them,

All pointing the way to assist us in

Our journey for arrival. The mere

Indefinite is not a number, so the

Deconstruction cannot be true

Truth is definite and can be

Numbered, obeys limits, and does

Not slip and slide, or grate, like

Words, but tells shapes of things

We will become as we realize all

The points at once, all the signs

Of names, places and things at One,

When we become in the all in all.


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Words ring in your mind and you

Try to hold them fast, though the

Thoughts slip away and words do

Not hold like the feeling of you.

Yet go over the words again and

Find a truth that may be what I

Intended when I wrote them for

You, or may be something else

He would have you to know, for

He may well choose to convey

More than I could ever know or

Hope to know with my own words.

My own words? Like you, not

Mine, not mine, but only for a time,

As if they were mine, yet still in the

Giving of them made real for you.

O! Marinela Sentinela, watcher of

My life and of our life together, the

One life lived for Them, you are so

Much more than what you know

And so much more than words can

Say, but He said seek and find, and

In a way I have sought you all my

Life, and whatever else I found I

Found after finding Him at least in

All the seeking and finding I found

You, found you for your truth I say,

Your passion, complexity and grace.

And in all, your all in all, your great

Simplicity, littleness, held in a single

Compass, gathered all my feeling, as

the Virgin she was the whitest winter.


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Your passion may tire and life

Itself seem too complex, but if you

Make the simple effort as I know

You always have and think you

Always will, then grace in your life

Will not be lacking, and youll find

The way, whether you know the

Time or the place, your name or

Your number, for grace defines us,

Perfects us and completes us, to be

With Him in embrace, not a total

Count in the making, the plus one.

Do not bother to add to your own

Simplicity and littleness, do not

Worry over issues or the problems

Of the world, yet remain in it with

Hope, my sentinel, my witness for

The witness, my Heaven sent in the

Midst of my Apocalypse, a sender,

An address, a destination, my little

All in all before the greater One to

Come, where we will be found and

Say no more, the work is done, the

Truth is claro, perfecto, complete.

The Virgin She Was the Whitest Winter by Michael Bolerjack

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