Our Lady of Bewilderment

By Alison Pelegrin

When I turn fifty, instead of a boudoir shoot
I’m having prayer cards made that feature me
as my alter ego, Our Lady of Bewilderment.
I’ll be in yoga pants, reclining mid-swoon on the couch
completely overwhelmed as I so often am
by the state of wonder buzzing in my brain.
I have time to settle on my iconography
provided I do not die of my distractions—
the pebbles push-pinned in my bare feet
as I speed-walk down hot asphalt straining my eyes,
unable to see the comet for the trees. Verso 
will be words, a blessing I have yet to write.
I would like to write a poem about the button
in my driveway, most certainly a gift from crows.
I would like to formalize my blacktop beatitudes
With a wine glass in one hand, and a Le Pen in the other.
A little bit cloister, a little bit drama queen,
I’m caught between worlds, a glutton for wonder
begging for more. Nothing over the top,
because I’m not searching for affliction,
and I don’t have a mystic’s patience or time,
just a little bit of oooh and ahhh to jumpstart
days which otherwise are uniform—
culvert steam, hornets, asphalt, a diesel wind.

“Our Lady of Bewilderment” from Our Lady of Bewilderment. Copyright © 2022 by Alison Pelegrin. Used by permission of Louisiana State University Press.