Mary's Lament

Always on the road, sloughing off the remains of

Bethlehem behind me. It was there I bore the

Child. It was there I ascended

Divine, with blood and hay beneath me,

Even as the star grew brighter. Who did I do this

For? And who did it to me, filled me with a

Grim determination to save a people who didn't ask for

Help.

//

I held him in my womb, my arms, my lap. My

Jesus, for whom they offered gold, then silver, as if it were an even trade. I

Kissed his brow first. I screamed into the sky with lowing cows and

Licked salt from his face on that horrid, skull-filled

Mountain, and then the book moved on. Oh, they sing my

Name in vaulted places. They praise the canal that

Opened for God. But few have asked for what I

Prayed, when swollen with questions, I walked away.

//

Queen of sorrows. Queen of

Regrets, forgotten in the

Sand. Even my son, when he left his

Tomb, did not come to soothe me. I, the

Unwed Mother, of whom was asked so much. I, the

Virgin spoiled by grace, just a vessel

Wrought in marble at my lowest. Never to become a crone.

//

Xanthic skin, lost in paint that washed away. I wish

You would remember me as I was: a woman who reached the

Zenith long before her walk was done.