Gathered, to mourn in one deathless hour
Fragile, a test to faith's consummate power
Grief, which is stone cast, among five stricken faces
Softened by reverence, and mute, anguished traces
Weightless in her arms, but heavy for the eyes
Devotion anchors deep, painting tears that will not dry
Each pulse that pounds, each gasp one takes,
will rise, then, with awe, as the brush strokes create......
Lost, the desperate world, which honed new beginnings
Shattered, by the cost, as their world had stop spinning
The few souls, who cradle, unable to speak
would renew from a tomb, He would defy and retreat
For those who altered history, Sofonisba paints with eye and ear
Will they stutter, will they falter, or still deny that He appeared?
Submitted for Cyndi's Contest: A Painting....Sofonisba Anguissola, Pieta