Heart of My Mother

Falling to her knees,

Broken, sobbing pleas,

"Save Him. Christ Messiah.

Save Him. Christ my Son."

Years of Gratitude, 

of contemplative prayers loomed 

by delicate fingers 

and worshipful wayfarers

All tucked within her bosom like the child in her arms.

"Save Him. Christ the babe. 

Save Him. Christ my Son."

Worship at the temple,

Boys who seek for more,

her young one taught them all

like a lion's very first roar.

"Save Him. Christ the Lion.

Save Him. Christ my Son."

Joyful days are passing,

But in her heart she knows

that painful days are coming

so she holds Him close.

"Save Him. Christ my Joy.

Save Him. Christ my Son."

Steadfast and un-breaking

even as He leaves home.

She cries hidden tears when He's left her alone.

"Save Him. Christ the Rabbi.

Save Him. Christ my Son."

Ninety lashes, and He thirsted for the world.

Mocked by the masses while Mary's heart unfurled.

"My Lord, My Lord, have a drink," she pressed the wine skin to his lips.

He breathed: "Save them. My Father's children.

"Save her. The heart of My mother."

Blood dripping down His toes, the scent of death,

heaven knows, the cross, the crucifix forebode,

the life, the Christ whom all shall find abode.

"Save Him. Son of my womb.

Save Him. Savior of all the world."