No, I'm not claiming to be channeling Mother Mary. The following is only a result of a musing question I asked myself one morning a few years ago.

"If Mary were to speak today,
what would she say?"

Over the following few weeks ,as the thought lingered in my mind, from time to time these verses emerged. I thought she would especially speak to women of our times. However, that could have been just sub-conscious response to my own problems.At the time, I had no intention to publish them.

Anyway, I wrote down what bubbled up in response, and was a bit surprised by how appropriate they seemed as response to my inner questions. There are only six pieces. They are simple. Yet, like seeds they unfold much more when nurtured. I share them with you now, for whatever value they may have for you.

Your Wayfarer friend,
Betty Curtis
February 2001


We knew that someday the Wind would ripen.
Light, like poured gold would flow.
Birds would sing, with notes to enlighten,
and the wondering mind would know.

Trees in the breeze, rustle and stir,
flowers in the meadows dance in the wind,
all through the years there's a haunting whisper;
a Voice calling over and over again.

"Oh James and John, where have you gone ?
Elizabeth and Anna, where do you run ?
Sun gilds the Morning, and Moon silvers night.
I hear you calling, but you're nowhere in sight."

It's out of my heart, the Voice that I hear,
with questions, and longing, and love,
for the days of the seeding we knew yesteryear,
and the days yet to come, that descend from Above.

The Voice that is calling says,"Soon they will come -
the Children of Spirit and Faith !"
I know the Voice is the Voice of my Son,
and my soul learns to quietly wait.


You are my hands, you know, -
women of the world, who nurture and care.
Some don't understand, you know.
My hands are not everywhere.
Tides bring change. Powers oppose
Faith in Heaven's Direction,
make barren fields, where nothing grows,
but doubt, and fear, and questions.

Take care of your hands, keep them steady and strong,
yet soft, for love's caressing.
Learn patience and faith, the Journey is long -
and pray for Heaven's Blessing.

You are my hands, you know.
Sometimes you must pray and wait.
Wait for Heaven to bring them home,
wandering Children of the world.
Sometimes they must find their way alone.
Sometimes they bring home a pearl.

Take care of your hands. They are needed, you know.
They are needed to comfort and guide.
We can't always foretell the Way we must go.
Let us in Faith abide.

It's a long way home for all of us.
Don't think you're alone.
We are sustained by Hope and Trust,
and memory of Love we've known.

Don't refuse to learn from the past.
but don't look back too long.
Like a rainy day, trouble will pass,
and we have to travel on.

Sometimes, I comfort myself in the dark,
recalling a sunny scene -
or the beautiful song of morning's lark -
or a sea-breeze fresh and clean.

As you travel on, in time you'll know
the magic in little things -
a summer rose; a sunrise glow;
the majesty of soaring wings.

In the night, a lamp in a quiet room;
a song on the evening air -
little things that light the gloom,
and rinse away despair.

In time you'll know Life's grandeur -
find wonder in every day.
You'll discover you're strong and pure,
alive, and on your way !


I've seen many seasons come and go -
golden Summers - Winter snows.
I've watched fierce storms churn up the seas,
and rested in a Springtime breeze.

Now, I see, moving ever nearer,
storms the like of never known;
times when all will face the Mirror,
confronted by the deeds they've sown.

And yet, I know that Grace is waiting,
if one resolves to mend their ways;
to turn from selfish ways of hating.
Light can dispel confusion's haze.

Though the record's filled with wrongs,
and many griefs have scarred the days,
the Spirit can rise up in song,
and Faith deliver from the maze.


One of my sons has abandoned the past.
He took a Road to starting again.
The past went with him, what would last -
whatever promised a fairer wind.

There was a Way, marked clear and ready.
An Eagle perched to show the Way.
He took the path, sure and steady,
marching into a better day.

I heard a song - softly he sang -
right from his heart, the words rang true.
I heard a call - gladly it rang -
swift as a soaring gull, it flew !

One of my sons, has flown away,
into the future, out of the storm.
Rejoice ! Don't weep ! He knows the Way !
The love in his soul is still warm.


Little things can often guide,
when larger lights have failed.
Little gulls have rode the tide,
safe amid the storm that wailed.

Little dreams have found their way,
into a lasting destiny,
while schemes and plots fell in a day.
It's one of Life's old Mysteries.

Little loves have grown and bloomed,
through troubles that subdued the great.
When the world can find no room,
in all its Inns, Faith can wait.

From the most obscure of starts,
if the seeds are strong and true,
they can unfold the greatest hearts,
and surprise by breaking through !