Mary Mourning by rudall30
Pietà
by Amanda Grace Shu (2014)
When she comes to the chest
she’s never had to touch
’til now, the day
her world cracked open—
breaking a body,
bleeding a heart,
pierced by an ugly spear
and left to burn, to die
in the sun, she remembers –
They brought her gold,
gold for a king,
frankincense for a God,
and myrrh—they brought her myrrh,
and smiled and looked
into her baby’s laughing eyes,
and knew he’d die—
it had hurt then,
oh, how it had hurt,
but not like now,
nothing like now.
Because now He was dead
and nothing left but myrrh.
