Poetry: Mater Dolorosa.

Sweet Mother of mine,

if I may be so bold-

Did the prophecy of the sword frighten you?

Did it wipe the smile off your face?

Did you clutch Him a little closer that night?

Was the journey to Egypt arduous than it seemed?

Did baby Jesus fuss too much?

Did you sleep at all?

Did you blame yourself for those 3 days?

Did you promise to spent your life in reparation for this great mishappening?

Did you know it was a rehearsal?

Did you know watching you suffer was one of His greatest?

Did you stroke His sweet Head, crowned with thorns?

Were you mad at the world for making Him do this?

Did you feel His agony on the Cross?

His Precious Body made naked, nails skewered into His Sacred flesh.

Did you feel the earth cry out?

Or was it your heart?

Did you feel the last of His warmth disappear as He lay on your lap?

Did His precious Blood soak your robes?

Was your heart in a million pieces or two?

Did you try to shake Him to wake Him up?

Could you believe He was gone?

Were you reminded of those baths you used to give Him when little?

Did the sight of His shredded flesh and pierced limbs tear through you like a sword?

Did you wish to remain in the sepulcher with Him?

Did everything seem bleak without Him?

Mother of Sorrows, Mother of my Redeemer,

whom did you grieve more for -

your precious Son or your Lord?

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