Then, he knew why he must hew
old memories from marble-
emotions quarried from heart's slew-
Oblique fight with his faith's garble
Cut block unfolds Christ, enthroned
on mother's lap- death sleep supine...
Sculptor's concepts cast in stone,
art wrestles with thoughts divine.
And sorrow, stilled in her young face,
speaks truth of words kept in her heart-
mother, son, distilled in saving grace,
sacred words saved in graven art.
A pity, the piety
so few true onlookers saw...
Revealed in society-
few look on In devoted awe.
Now she knows why she must express
emotions whittled away, and smoothed
from quarried heart's deep distress-
The process leaves her soothed...
Such feelings are not cast in stone-
Warmly carved in reflective marble, maybe,
as he wrestled with tempestuous thoughts
burning, guiding hands that draped
unmoving drapes over motionless shapes,
shaping faith that cannot be bought.
And the tenderness on her gentle face
belies the hurt of curse's sword driven
straight through her mother heart...all trace
of ancient prophecy hidden.
Till truth, preserved, be told.
Had he not told them many times
he would return, come back to life?
And that word was kept, unfailing.
And the stone was moved, revealing...
Posted: 22nd April 2019.
Note: I am totally in awe of the stupendous sculptures produced over the centuries.
Miraculous as they are, I believe in greater miracles, the resurrection of Christ being just that.
I am also a mother of two grown up sons.
My little miracles...<3 <3
Luke 2:25-35. Luke 24:1-8
Copyright © Aqua Marine | Year Posted 2019