… Lo, the winter is past,
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth its figs,
and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away.
O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,
in the covert of the cliff,
let me see your face,
let me hear your voice,
for your voice is sweet,
and your face is comely.
Catch us the foxes, the little foxes,
that spoil the vineyards,
for our vineyards are in blossom.
My beloved is mine and I am his,
he pastures his flock among the lilies.
Until the day breathes and the shadows flee,
turn, my beloved, be like a gazelle,
or a young stag upon rugged mountains. Sg 2:11-17
The cross comes to a finish with a cry, with a call, with a plea: “I thirst.” …
The true kiss is interior…
If we are close to Mary… Mary will ask us to carry on the mystery of her compassion – for the entire world, but especially for “the world” near us.
With Open Hands 