A-Poem-a-Day
Until Resurrection Day
THE PIETA
After the earthquake
the peals of
thunder
the flashes
of lightning across the sky
After the curious
crowds dispersed
Mary sat in
ominous dimness
upon a mound
of earth
at the base
of the Cross
clutching the
body
of her Son
She cradled
Him
in the hollow
of her lap
close to her
bosom
as she had
when he was
her baby boy
Mary removed
thorns of
mockery
that encircled
His forehead
and tossed it
to the side
Straining to
see in the shadows
she carefully
picked
fragments of
thorn needles
still stuck
in His lifeless flesh
although they
couldn’t hurt Him
any longer
With her
fingertips
she tenderly
closed the lids
over His
dark, vacant eyes
and smoothed
the disheveled,
matted hair
…then
she kissed Him
O, my beautiful Son…
Tears flowed
down her face
onto His cheeks
mingling with
dried blood
With the edge
of her garment
she wiped some
blood away
John came
and rested
his hand
upon her trembling
shoulder
He was now
her son
She was now
his mother
Mysteries
too deep to
comprehend
swirled in
her mind
like the flap
and flutter
of wings and
overshadowing
Son of the
Most High
and David’s
throne
like pregnant
Elizabeth’s joy
when the baby
leapt in her womb
and the
Baptizer himself, when grown
proclaiming his
younger cousin
“The Lamb of
God, Who
takes away
the sin of the world”
and Simeon’s
prophesy
that Jesus would
be
a Light of
revelation
to the
Gentiles and the glory
of the people
of Israel
Where is the
Light?
Where is the
glory?
Where is the
throne?
Overwhelmed
by sorrow
so intense it
stabbed her
deep, deep in
her inner parts
Mary cried
out in anguish
and rent her
robe
Was this what old Simeon meant
long ago in the Temple
when he held Jesus in his arms
and said a sword would pierce
my very soul?
O my Son, my beautiful Son…
I cannot fathom the ways of God, but
I do know this cannot be the end
Maude Carolan
Pych
by Maude Carolan Pych
is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble.
www.maudecarolanpych.com
