THE WONDERFUL FLOWER OF GOD

The Wounded Flower of God

As she stood trembling and sobbing at the foot of the middle cross

Mary looked up at the battered and beaten form of her dying son.

Flashes of memory leaped into her mind and danced before her eyes

As she recalled the events of this man's, her child's - divine life.

Little did she realize back then at the sound of the angel's voice

That her baby would eventually be broken, ridiculed, and mocked.

"Saviour of the world" she had thought, what a glorious calling of God

"Surely his life will be different - better" she would tell herself.

Now, with hot tears staining her beautiful face the woman sobs on.

She stands there on that hill among the mockers and the accusers

So many of them in fact that she can barely hear her own cries.

The bronze muscled body of her grown son moves in anguished spasms.

She knows the rules, if he saves himself now - he loses the world

So she stands there firmly on shakey ground, dying with each heartbeat.

This wonderful mother of the most divine creature on earth remembers

The time when her son was dedicated at the temple - holy beginnings.

She also recalls the time that Jesus became separated from his family,

How foolish they were to even think that any harm would come to him.

She remembers the long tedious hours in that hot carpentry shop and

Often times wondered if Christ did not grow weary of the waiting.

Divine destiny soon to be fulfilled while callusing his hands daily.

Broken hearts to be mended, minds and bodies to be restored - soon.

Each new day possibly the one that would take him away from his mother

And launch his new career as a prophet, a preacher, and a saviour.

Mary remembers with pride the wedding feast, the first miracle

The strange looks of amazement from friends and family members.

The baptism, oh how she remembers the baptism - she had heard God speak

Great things about her first born child as he came up out of the Jordan.

She hears a voice now, it's penetrating her thoughts and her sobs.

Her son, her magnificent son is telling John to take care of her!

Oh how like him, to be racked with pain and to still consider others.

Now he's speaking lovingly to one of the men on the cross next to his.

As Mary strains to hear what her son is saying she sees a smile

Form on the thief's face, "how can this be?" she thinks to herself.

More noise as the mockers continue but now the mother of Christ

Can hear other faint sounds, trumpets maybe? A rattling of keys?

While trying to listen carefully to everything going on around her

She is startled as her son sounds out his final message of hope.

"It is finished" - "isn't that what he said?" someone in the crowd

Cries out to the rest - "yes" Mary says to herself as she bids farewell.

As this remarkable woman remains steadfast in her secured position

The crowd starts to disperse, "surely the clouds mean rain?" she hears.

Some in the crowd are even talking about the harvest already - "how?"

And so she stands there, eyes fixed on the lifeless body of her son.

As each minute passes another stab of pain shoots through her body

Her mind is being tormented by the event that she has just witnessed.

These people, these very people around her who carelessly bump into

Her as they pass by are the entire reason for today - and for tomorrow.

Author: TOM DIFRANCESCA III