Ann-Marie Spittle

THE ULTIMATE MOTHER

Please spare a thought for Mary, the mother of the Christ,
Who was the backbone of His life, His supporter in His strife?
She knew when He was in her arms that His life would be very short,
That fate had dealt His hand out and God had the winning cards.

She was told when she was carrying Him that His life would abruptly end,
In pain and suffering for us He truly was our friend,
But she still stood there by Him and watched His life unfold,
To lift Him up when others treated Him so cold.
She knew just what to say and do to brighten up His day,
To make the time seem lighter and chase the clouds away.

She watched among the crowd that day as He was beaten and was bled,
And felt every lash upon her skin as if it was she instead,
She walked along and felt His pain, and heard the taunts and jibs,
She listened and she followed Him with tears in her eyes,
And stood before Him at the cross and waited for the lies,
And when she held Him at the end in her arms down from the cross,
The child she did remember, the one she now had lost.
And put Him in His resting place as she many times before,
And kissed His forehead as if asleep and helped them close the door.

She was there when He needed her the most at the beginning and the end,
But then that is a mother, a confidant, and friend.
So spare a thought for Mary as you hug your mother tight,
For she knows how Mary feels each day when she tucks you in at night

Author’s Note: This poem is dedicated to all mothers whose children have suffered horror