This poem is for our baby daughters who died in utero. Resquiescat in pace, Mary and Isobella. Keep each other company till mama and daddy can join you. I called this painful poem "ecstasy" because it's not a term for bliss. In fact, ecstasy is nothing like blissful calm of bliss. It's intense, searing spiritual awakening, bitter-sweet. The mystics St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila (who elected herself my patroness) experienced this. Our Lady felt the seven dolores (Sorrows) piercing her heart. Any parent, especially a mother, who has lost a child knows heart burn. The Heavenly Father knows it, too. Heart Burn, the Agony and Ecstasy (poem) Heart Burn, the Agony and Ecstasy (poem)
This poem is for our baby daughters who died in utero. Resquiescat in pace, Mary and Isobella. Keep each other company till mama and daddy can join you. I called this painful poem "ecstasy" because it's not a term for bliss. In fact, ecstasy is nothing like blissful calm of bliss. It's intense, searing spiritual awakening, bitter-sweet. The mystics St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila (who elected herself my patroness) experienced this. Our Lady felt the seven dolores (Sorrows) piercing her heart. Any parent, especially a mother, who has lost a child knows heart burn. The Heavenly Father knows it, too. Heart Burn, the Agony and Ecstasy (poem) 
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