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AS I HEARD MARY



Oh Dean of light.
You who deem deeds wrong or right.
This prayer is not to look with with doubts a deal already done, just because I'm now in my night.
But you and I know that even wrongs have rights. So treat this tears on my cheeks as fresh water from the blood released from a heart hard pierced.

I'm like the hissing song of a snail with a broken shell when that shell is all it has.
I'm  Mary your handmaid: the mother of the boy
whom they have just pierced.
They call him Savior but I call him son.
So if by any means you 're at peace with his pain, remember that I am not God so  I may not understand.

Although he was a gift promised to be re-taken.
Although before he was born we observed a minute silence for his death,
I never considered him an 'acting son' or loved him with left-over emotions.
I heard the prophecies but I was a mother who had a son.
So who will blame me if I also had dreams?
since he was a son like any other.
Of course I remember how he came but I dared to call him son.

And as  I  looked into his wide white eyes I still see my first flower Joseph blessed with a kiss.
For this boy is my Adam, my very first!
So when those thorns went into his head,
 I asked the earth if I could walk out.
With my heart still bleeding behind the breasts with which he was nursed.

And Oh Dean of light.
Now among the hot ashes of Golgotha I search for strips of his blood stained dress.
And the thorns and the spear that went in last when he still had warmth.
And I'm  pouring earth on each patch where a splash of his blessed blood touched.
For the bleats of the sheep meant for an eternal sacrifice are now shrapnels on my young heart.
I have watched every episode of his service for sin and how I wish I can rejoice with all the earth.
But every breathe I now draw is illegal,
because for me life has moved on!

(c) Samson Abanni

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