A Mother's Sorrowful Mystery!

Liturgy by Irene Zimmerman, OSF

All the way to Elizabeth
and in the months afterward,
she wove him, pondering,
‘This is my body, my blood!’

Beneath the watching eyes
 of donkey, ox, and sheep,
she rocked him, crooning,
‘This is my body, my blood!’

In the moonless desert flight
and the Egypt days of his growing,
she nourished him, singing,
‘This is my body, my blood!’

In the search for her young lost boy
and the foreboding day of his leaving,
she let him go, knowing,
‘This is my body, my blood!’

Under the blood-smeared cross,
She rocked his mangled bones,
re-membering him, moaning,
‘This is my body, my blood!’

When darkness, stones, and tomb
bloomed to Easter morning,
She ran to him, shouting,
‘This is my body, my blood!’