The Spring Not For Her

Mother Marie fell down, On seeing the girl’s sign The leg that was swollen, Causing her severe pain. Tuberculosis had eaten, Partially her leg-bone, But this, she told none, Not even the nearest one. She had taken it easy As she was too busy In nursing the wounded From the war-field. “How the Lady allowed A disease of this kind To attack the chosen one For her noble mission? “When she gave a spring, With a power of healing, This girl received nothing But inherited only suffering.” “The police spared not her. The church cared not her. Earlier none believed her. They only harassed her.” “The poverty weakened her. The upper class teased her. The asthma ruined her. The T.B. tortured her.” “What more suffering still Awaited this poor girl? Yet, she had all the will To face this kind of hell.” In the Mother’s mind ran, All those scenes, one by one, O’er the girl’s sense of humour To call it a sign, the tumour. In the convent a talk went, “Why not this girl be sent To Lourdes for her treatment, For which the spring was meant.” But she stoutly refused, “To me, ” she then said, “The spring is of no use It’s meant only for others.” Jesus suffered for others! She too suffered for others, Took, in turn, their pains, As the Lady’s gift of pains!