And Blessed is She Who Believed

She perhaps had few adornments

In that sandy place, perhaps small flowers

Brought back on her way from well, or prayer.

Perhaps she was one of those girls who grow up

Singing, but not speaking much, and who really like

Taking food to ailing friend, or cousin.

I think when she was small, and they told her

About Abraham, she tried to count the stars,

And wondered how many children she would have

When she and her intended finally had their house.

Preparing bread she knew, drawing water,

And praying without ceasing to the God of Israel,

Amidst that bitter Roman hardness,

For the Deliverer to come. She knew

Messiah would come,

One day.

For that she wove her prayers

Into the promises of God

(The Lord Himself shall give a sign)

Already woven through with centuries

Of weeping for the Desire of Nations.

What sound then could that word have made

In her, abruptly spoken by that visitor?

Behold a virgin

where comes this terror!

Conceives and bears; the Holy shall descend

Upon, in remembrance of His mercies, and she

Is you

I, bear that Son?

And call his name Jesus, for he shall save


His people

The Deliverer!

From their sins.

My soul, my soul doth magnify the Lord!

For your mere answer, Mary,

(Be it unto me according to Thy Word)

One more generation blesses you

And intertwines our utterance, Maranatha!

Into yours: Come, Lord Jesus, soon.


–Deanna Harrington Christiansen, 2008, used by permission.

Deanna Christiansen is a poet living and writing in Rochester, New Hampshire.  “To Whom It May Concern” is in a collection of her poetry entitled Notes on a Flight Home.  To purchase her book and to find out more about Deanna, go to her website here.