After the Funeral
Dusk fell rapidly. Three women dressed in black
With their young lanky companion hurried back
To their rather small impoverished dark room.
Only an oil lamp that added to their gloom.
Silence reigned except for the youngest maiden
Sobbing, though all were with heavy heart laden.
The elder sat on a bed, shedding no tears
That man buried was in reality hers.
O what a cruel world, how her son suffered!
How many times he was so harshly buffered?
Religious leaders had him sentenced to death.
So crucified was he until his last breath.
Generous of Joseph to give him a tomb.
Brave Nicodemus but with a face of doom,
Provided fresh linen and bought perfumed spice.
There they buried the young man from Paradise.
Still in the darkness the elder woman sat,
No one dared engage her in frivolous chat.
No one knew the pain in her much wounded breast,
It had began with his treacherous arrest.
Still the worst was yet to come when with a lance
Checking his death, the Roman saw in a glance.
That's when she felt the cruel lance pierce her heart,
The young man quickly held her seeing her start.
Now on her hard bed she quietly pondered
My God Father, what will happen, she wondered.
She then knew her mission as God had decreed.
On the third day Her dearest Son would be freed.
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