The Bride of Christ

Catherine of Siena receiving Stigmata (Photo Source)

The Bride of Christ
by Sarah Murphy

Blood flowed through Siena and Florence,

As hatred, greed, and lust in torrents

Savaged a lustrous land and people,

Beloved by a famed woman so feeble.

Catherine, Siena’s own young mystic,

Roamed around Tuscania, so rustic,

But her eyes were blind to sunflowers,

While enraptured in Sweet Truth for hours.

The Popolana’s nature was fire,

perfected by grace, twas God’s desire

She set all ablaze the earth with love

Fueled by sweet ecstasies from above.

While youth and beauty still graced her face,

Her depleted body laid to waste.

But, from a bottomless well she drew—

The Blood of Christ all Catherine’s lips knew.

Wars and feuds were ceased and prevented,

For her words and prayers never ended.

Yet her role she would never admit

For she was but Christ’s conduit.

Her death led to consummation

With her Betrothed, with her Salvation.

She left this earth at thirty-three

So to work harder for you and me.