I see her and she sees me:
Scantily dressed, shivering cold.
Exhausted, terrified.
As Gabriel stood before her, 
now she stands before me—
Her longing eyes looking upward,
Her beautiful fingers pointed upward
to the walls of heavenly Jerusalem.
I stare; my shorts too short, neckline too low.
I fall and let my knees touch the stone floor;
its cold and I can’t help but shake.
The chapel is full of tourists, 
but suddenly I don’t know—
It’s only me and the organ and the virgin.