Pieta

To the mother holding her own son
His body dehydrated ,drained and dead
Who can imagine her emotion?

I feel  in my own depths , vibration  stuns
Though I lost the one I had once wed
Grieving with  the mother and her son

On this night ,the ambulance had gone
Woe had pierced me , drawn my blood
I  could never have imagined  what  began

Forgive my  hubris, my comparison
Mary’s pain eluded me till led
To mourn like she’d already done

The Passions wild and painful   were all done
Whether in the Garden or the Bed
I had not dreamed of such emotion

I heard the still small voice  and what it said
Despite  the hollows of my heart were filled with dread
With the mother weeping  on her son
Help us hold  our loss  until we’re done