When I squeezed the rosary with my
Tense fingers, my soul was bone dry;
I prayed too fast, as if trying to speed
Through Death Valley at high noon.
I pitched my prayers with fear, and they
Wildly eluded the spiritual strike zone;
It was as though they were frantically
Fired from a rickety machine gun.
Then you taught me how to pray, Madonnina,
More slowly, and more meaningfully;
I peacefully sprinkled the rosary throughout
The day, watering my soul’s garden.
I threw sizzling strikes with love, which you
Crisply caught and brought to Jesus;
As God’s holy warrior, Padre Pio spoke the
Truth: “Lord, give me my weapon.”