A Small Invitation in March

Mary’s Little Beetle

Ladybug,

you carry so many meanings from land to land.

In Koean, a shaman bug

In England, ladybird

In America, ladybug

In Germany, Mary’s little beetle.

In France, God’s little creature.

In Spain, little Mary.

All of them point to Mary,

the mother of Jesus.

And of all these names,

I find myself loving most

Mary’s little beetle.

When you appear in March,

the flowers just opening

seem to send me

an invitation to spring

through your gentle kiss.

Because you devour the aphids

and help the fields grow,

the farmers of medieval Europe

once called you a sign of good fortune.

But I—

I am simply glad to see you.

The seven black dots

upon your tiny body,

they say,

are the seven sorrows of Mary.

I thought you were only small and pretty,

yet in that little body

you carry the symbol

of seven sorrows.

Mary knew—

that the death of Jesus upon the cross

must have been

her greatest sorrow.

And I, too,

wish to endure

the sorrows I carry within my own body.

As I hung the washing out to dry,

I saw a tiny red flower

blooming upon the white cloth.

Then I knew—

it was your March invitation

sent to me.

Go now,

tell the flowers here and there:

that it is time

for March

to bloom.

*these are my iwn paintings*