Our Lady Calms the Four Horses of the Apocalypse

Our Lady Calms the Four Horses of the Apocalypse

Chris Green

They flurry about her, majestic
motes in the plains light,
gently eddying swirls
of sage and soot, flame
and salt. Blanketed in stars,
she moons over them,
balletic and luminous in the globes
of their ancient eyes.
And what she whispers I cannot
hear but know it binds them
to her son, spells them
for his weight,
his alone. And I see
their painted backs
thrill to it,
nostrils flaring,
wild necks bent and thrown
in the native marvel of their design.

When at last he comes I see
he is not striding,
but stumbling—
uncrowned and thunderless,
clasping the halves
of a newly broken bow.
And there’s blood in his eyes,
blood in his fists,
and the side of his robe is soaked.

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Chris EW Green
Professor & Director

Chris is a Professor of Public Theology and Director of St. Anthony Institute. His latest book is All Things Beautiful: An Aesthetic Christology. You can read/hear more of his work at cewgreen.substack.com and cewgreen.com.

Photography by Sami Abdullah