I woke up to an orange sky
tasselled with clouds.
Drumming up, the heart made
a reluctant lurch toward
an invisible line. To love
and honor, is that it? Our work then
is to interpret, to teach the heart not
to be invulnerable, stiff as board,
watch the daily signs which are
a customary prayer–call me
ridiculous, pathetic, but
this is my sun dance,
I felt it back then but had to ask,
what’s the name of the place anyway.
May 13 was the centennial celebration of Fatima. Three shepherd children had seen the apparition of Mary in the spring of 1917, whom they called Fatima, and received three prophecies. They then saw her a couple more times, a total of six, between then and 13 October 1917. On 13 October, a large crowd had gathered at the Cova da Iria, in Fatima, Portugal, and witnessed a sun dance.
“According to accounts, after a period of rain, the dark clouds broke and the sun appeared as an opaque, spinning disc in the sky. It was said to be significantly duller than normal, and to cast multicolored lights across the landscape, the people, and the surrounding clouds. The sun was then reported to have careened towards the earth before zig-zagging back to its normal position. Witnesses reported that their previously wet clothes became “suddenly and completely dry, as well as the wet and muddy ground that had been previously soaked because of the rain that had been falling” (Wikipedia)
On 13 May 2017, Pope Francis canonized two of the children, Jacinta and Francisco. They died at age 9 and 10 respectively. The third child, Lucia, lived till age 97.
In your poem, reference the supernatural. You might want to use the words provided by The Sunday Whirl.