Monday, 13 July 2015

Honouring the Mother

Many years ago I went on a bike tour of Bavaria.

We cycled through rural communities and often 

found ourselves in dark forests.

And in the darkest parts of the forest it wasn't 

unusual to come across a small grotto dedicated to 

the Virgin.

A burning candle and Her image behind a wire gate.

The whole thing no more than a foot high.

To see it you had to kneel.

Each grotto verdant, 

Smelling of damp earth.

Strangely fecund.

A holy place.


  1. I like your little poem at the end. I saw lots of little Marian shrines like that in Italy too, the spontaneous creations of ordinary people.

  2. Sounds like fun, Francie, and quite intriguing.