I Held Marys Hand
I Held Mary’s Hand
I held Mary’s hand as John covered his face,
So still,
At Peace,
Faded are the slapping sounds of the whip against his flesh,
Gone now are the shrieks as his crown was pegged into her child’s head,
I felt her hand, as it twists into mine,
Warm,
Dry, strong to the touch.
As the arms release, her grip is firm, ridged,
As if hers are the spiked arms being released, free from pain
Her tears roll,
Silent, still,
As her son is now
Shrouded body moves like a holy ghost,
The linen and cotton, dotted with the sin of man,
Mary awareness, that they not know what has been done,
The future,
Presented in their presence and decided with each lash mark,
Each step of the walk with 300 pounds of wood nailed to fashion the Christ cross,
Foretold this day to her,
All the years before
I held Mary’s hand as we walk to the tomb of our King of King’s.
I see her resolute,
No fear of our future,
Brilliant in the light of God,
Mourning the natural,
The body,
Her Son, her boy, her baby
Now Devine providence for us all,
In his sacrifice,
Her sacrifice, as told to her all the years before,
I held Mary’s hand,
As the Stone closed,
Sealing in the body,
Releasing the spirit of the Christ-Child,
Tears dry by the kicking sands and dust of which all men will return.
Stoic we look upon the dotted trail,
Our long winding road back thru perdition
I held Mary’s hand as she leads me,
Pulls us to our destination,
Alone,
Resolute our steps gain purpose.
Divinity and destiny intertwine to our hope’s yield,
Everlasting Salvation.
Step by Step,
The confidence and purpose,
Re-delivered as if the Spirit,
Advising of the greatest of gifts,
By God,
Would be delivered from Mary,
As the vessel,
To one day go back to the Alter of God,
Each step rekindles the awareness,
Realness,
The divine need for all this to happen,
For the upcoming Majesty,
Behold the power of Gods mighty hand,
As told to her all the years before,
In the light of the spirit,
Of the holy divinity to come
I held Mary’s hand
As we eat unleavened bread, sipping from the cup,
Waiting and listening, the shock of her son’s disciples,
Explaining the sight their eyes will not believe,
When the arm extended,
Hands open and out,
I held Mary’s hand as we move past time, space and place.
I show her the words of her son, spreading across the lands,
I show Mary the hymnals,
We hear the choirs of angles singing,
Wrapped in their robes,
The praised sounds that are holy ode’s of joy
I held Mary’s Hand,
As we enter….
Together seated next to God.
Copyright © Mike Liquori | Year Posted 2015
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