Pelicans fly at dawn,
Heavy, unsure of the wind,
Their hungry cries piercing the sky
Fiercely searching receding waves.
Ancient sorrow lingers here,
The stunned saints with fading stigmata
Painted dimly into ever-falling shadow.
Our Lady of Sorrows wears a black mantilla. Her
cold, glimmering hands clench
The lace handkerchief Maria Antonia brought.
Our Lady of Solitude pierces my soul,
Her face shining forth from layers of death,
Her astounding eyes glittering with living anguish.