Dim dupes of mortal science and despair,
Alarm and fright are now our daily dole,
Infected by panic, we wither in its snare,
Whilst lepers, not of flesh, but of the soul,
Make fear of death our one and only law;
Our muted cries by howling fiends are hushed
As Satan rakes us with his poisoned claw:
All they who trust in man, by men are crushed.
Bringer of Him who makes the blind to see,
Ministress of Life, Ampoule of our God,
From sin’s contagion undefiled and free,
Swaddler of Heaven on earth’s wounded sod,
Health of the Sick, sweet Mother, Virgin pure,
In scorning thee, we spit upon our Cure!
From Sonnets for Heaven’s Queen © Joseph Charles MacKenzie. All rights reserved.
3 Comments
Marcellus Moylan
Wow, Mr. MacKenzie! This sonnet is amazing! You really cut to the core of this Covid-19 crisis! Without trust in God, without Mary, Salus Infirmorum, there is only fear and despair in this world.
Margaret Coats
This sonnet was much to the point when it was posted several months ago, and seems just as pointed several months later, with its final line barb directed against all who continue to heed earth while paying no attention to heaven. Lovely address to the Health of the Sick in lines 9-13.
Joseph Charles MacKenzie
Yes, because naturalism is one of the errors of modernism. In my new collection, “Sonnets for the Queen of Heaven,” to be coming out soon in a fancy deluxe edition, I expand upon Our Lady’s title of “Nuestra Señora de los Remedios,” Our Lady of Remedies, a devotion which was introduced into my native New Mexico in 1598.