In the hours after I see her with others…
the busyness around her
she is gracious, she is strong…
for others, for him,
a few tears, a few memories…
but she is numb,
she is disbelief—
her real suffering comes
in the night of Mary
when she is alone
after the last good bye
the door closes
and the silence presses on her ears
then she faces the long, dark night
the mirror of her emptiness
her terror and fear,
then the torturous memories come
the sounds
the echoing of nails
pounding and pounding and pounding
his hands, his feet
crowds jeering and pushing
the shouting “crucify”
then she cries out to her angels
then she cries out to her God
who had promised so much love
and has delivered death
in the dark
in the silence
there is the deep deep suffering
in the night of Mary
far from the crowds,
their gaze
their speech
then she takes all the things
and ponders them in her heart
I see her stare
I hear her moan
I hear her wail
I see her rocking
hugging her own being
for comfort
I hear her sing his lullabies
a drift into sleep
nightmares come
the relief of waking
then the sting of remembering
creeping through her body
the pain again into the marrow of her bones
over and over the pounding nails
the jeering crowds
his hanging body’
his blood
filled with the horror
she could not stop
his flesh and blood
ripped apart
broken open
she drinks the secret cup of sorrow
over and over and over
she feels the weight
of his death on her
tries to caress it from his face
tries to breathe her life into him
tries to encircle him in her body
bring him back into her womb
to bring him new life
but she cannot…
she is spent and
I see her curl into her own embryo
then I see her angels come
they surround her in a womb of light
and take her to their sleep.
