Sunday 13 February 2022



by Karen Jones

Worship not this Mary,
her alabaster pose,
hard skin, veil,
robes of stone.

She’s graven, trapped
as a golden calf,
sacrificed according to
an image in our minds. 
She’s perfect, she’s dead,
no thoughts of her own,
no flesh and blood,
no living womb.

Is this God’s vision? 
He has broken
his own Command,
and she stands cold
upon her pedestal. 

Once she was alive.
Blemished, but so wise,
warm, and whole.

* * * * *

Karen Jones is a teacher, poet, and life-long learner from Corvallis, Oregon. Her poems have appeared in Willawaw JournalCircle of Seasons, Cirque Press, and other publications. Her chapbook Seasons of Earth and Sky (Finishing Line Press) was released in 2020.

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