© 2009 Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved and Observed.
Have you ever had “wondering” days
When you sit and reflect upon things?
Certain thoughts will linger and laze,
. . . before you know it, take wings.
I’m wondering about Mary today,
The mother of Jesus, our Lord.
Lingering resolve to woefully stay,
This event of such tragic accord.
Evil prevailed on that cross up high. . .
They mangled him then nailed him fast.
Judas betrayed this holy One. Why?
For silver that would never last.
Mary tarried on that blood-soaked hill,
Weeping… needing to hold her boy.
Knowing that his body they did kill
But never could his spirit destroy.
His ravaged flesh was taken off the tree;
Mary’s tears flowed with his blood.
She cradled him ever so lovingly
As the soil churned into red mud.
His corpse was taken to a tomb quite near,
Wrapped up in spices and herbs.
Mary trudged home with Sabbath tears,
Her heavy heart greatly disturbed.
Do you think underneath all that dirt,
This hill still preserves hallowed mud…
Evidence of Mary’s excruciating hurt-
Her tears mingled with Jesus’ blood?