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To: Knitting A Conundrum

The Shroud

How white the linen
they laid out
at first.

How clean the water was
in its ewer,
waiting to be poured.

How fresh the towel.

Loving hands though,
soon turned the waters
ruby red
in a vain attempt
to erase some of the terrors of the day.

Sweet spice could not wholly
cover up the smell
of blood,
of pain,
of death,
of the cost of redemption.

Loving hands, though,
wrapped the linen snugly
over his prostrate form,
as if in final gesture,
a last farewell,
letting the whiteness of the sheet
turn what color it would,
Loving hands
never knowing
what image
their care
would leave behind.


39 posted on 03/25/2005 4:05:55 PM PST by Knitting A Conundrum (Act Justly, Love Mercy, and Walk Humbly With God Micah 6:8)
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To: Knitting A Conundrum

Good Friday Night

O Blessed Mother,
O Lady of Sorrows,
How dark that night must have been,
when they led you home
from Golgotha and the tomb.

Did you find yourself
staring numbly
into the dark,
seeing the sad day's moments
playing over and over
in your mind,
as the quiet tears
trickled down your cheeks?

Did they gather together,
one by one,
the scattered disciples,
afraid of each noise
yet not knowing where to go,
except towards you,
all they had left
of their master?

Did they come to hold you in your grief,
or come to be mothered?


40 posted on 03/25/2005 4:06:40 PM PST by Knitting A Conundrum (Act Justly, Love Mercy, and Walk Humbly With God Micah 6:8)
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