The Mother
- emeryclairelofton
- Sep 6, 2024
- 1 min read
The mother's cry pierced the night
Sharp enough to cut through dimensions
But that's why it was purposed
It sliced through the atmosphere of space
The edge where time reigned supreme
And it was by no means diluted in its execution
Though draped in the darkness of human grief
For why it existed met its full end
As it extended past where the greatest minds will never conceive
And it pierced the chest of Him
whose heart knew the first break
And the echos of his own drove Him to meet her where she was
Crumpled on the ground in the midst of her chaos
And as He looked upon her
The impression of how
His broken heart
was made manifest
in a broken body
on a Roman cross
was louder than He could bear
And her ache moved Him
To weep with her
For all the familiarity of humanity's woes
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