My little lamp would bid me light.

As I used to say my prayers, each night.

On my knees, at my bedside.

I’d hold my tiny, white rosary tight.

I’d envision St. Alex, in all his might.

Holy Water sprinkled on my chest, still drying.

I’d beg for the Father to scoop me away

For the Ghost to hold me, I truly did pray

For Christ himself to appear at my side…

So I could be with him in paradise…

Paradise.

St. Alex was listening. He heard my every line.

And he’d answer, in time.

St. Alex was with me

When platefuls of spinach

Were shoved in my face

I’d hear his deep whispers, while saying my grace

Never cursing, but blessing

Even when I wished he would’ve.

Silence took hold, he could only speak goodness…

St. Alex was with me

When I tried to run,

And when I promised my brothers

I’d find a new home.

It started raining that day

I wasn’t a mile away

Before he led me back slowly…

He didn’t mind that I was crying.

He just knew I had to be there.

I had to suffer.

For the girls, for my brothers.

St. Alex was with me,

In the depths of despair.

He sang me his psalms

When nobody was there.

When the world was violent

And I was scared silent,

He snatched up my heart

And we led the choir.

St. Alex was with me.

I watched him change.

Until he was no longer there.

Now I see St. Alex

Everyday in my mirror.