And, let's see, I'll read one more.
It's called "War."
"I cannot promise you happiness in this world,
Mary to child Bernadette in her vision."
That's what she said.
They asked her, "what did Mary say to you?"
You know, Bernadette and Lourdes, she said,
"I cannot promise you the happiness in this world."
"What I can promise you is this will not go on forever.
Oncology pediatrician to extremely small patient
haggard with torment.
What was it that little girl grieving her father's death
said?
I love to lie down on his side of the bed.
They'll take your hand and guide you to the wide, white room
winter, and they won't need to hear about what you do not
believe in.
See, it was a winter war, a trocal madhouse.
And the war is coming back.
But everyone knows that.
Children not yet born will draw it
from inside barbed wire, lunged at by dogs.
One of them will take your hand and say,
I can't promise you will not suffer the same arctic light,
the same freezing wind in your face when you have no face. "
Thank you.