I very slowly awaken,
Still groggy from sleep,
And I feel the black enemy
Wielding his cutlass of terror,
A weapon of worry and woe,
Ready to strike me down,
But before he reaches me,
I look to wise St. Joseph,
Who gives me Our Lady’s lasso,
The Most Holy Rosary
Of the Morning Star,
A superior weapon for
Engaging in spiritual combat:
I pray it slowly, and meaningfully,
Praying a delicious decade
Each hour throughout the morning,
Meditating on the holy mysteries,
Relishing the sweet taste of Love,
Allowing Our Lady to scatter
God’s blessings like holy seeds
Wherever she wills, for she knows
Much better than I do how to please
The Lord of Divine Mercy;
But when the enemy sneaks up
And tries to mortally wound me,
I immediately grab my weapon,
And I squeeze the strong little beads
Like a Jedi does a light saber,
And my sincere, intense prayers,
Like an angel’s trumpet blast,
Reach the ears of Almighty God,
Who with legions of angels
Comes to rescue and save me.