Have you ever had “wondering” days
When you sit and reflect upon things?
Certain thoughts will linger and laze,
And before you know it, take wings.
I was wondering about Mary today,
The mother of Jesus, our Lord:
How she lingered with intent to stay,
Heart and spirit of woeful accord,
On that day when they took her son,
Laid him down and nailed him hard
To a rough hewn tree. It was done;
Thirty pieces of silver the reward.
She tarried there on that forsaken hill
Weeping, wanting so to hold her boy.
She knew that his body they did kill
But his spirit they could never destroy.
His ravaged remains were taken off the tree;
Mary’s tears mingled with his blood.
Softly she cradled him ever so lovingly
As the soil turned into a rich red mud.
His corpse was taken to a sepulcher near
And wrapped with ointments and spices.
Mary trudged home spewing Sabbath tears,
Her heart shattered into a thousand slices.
I wondered today if underneath all the dirt,
The hill still preserves hallowed mud,
Evidence of Mary’s godforsaken hurt
When her tears united with Jesus’ blood.
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