Mary in the Morning

	I held him in my arms
	my Jesus, my Son
	God's Holy One
	while every bleeding part
	tore at my grieving heart
	I rocked him like a child
	knowing all the while
						I could not keep him
						I could not let him go. . .

	Out in the driving rain
	I prayed, "God take away my pain!"
	Joseph of Arimathea, a friend
	gently took him from me
					I could not see. . .
	and stumbled close behind
	up to the rock hewn tomb;
	it was long past noon
	darkness shrouded everything
	. . .the disciples had scattered
	their hopes splintered
	as the cross on which he hung
	their spirits shattered. . .

	Sleepless this long night
	I arose early, and all the women
	went to the tomb
	carrying anointing spices
	to dress our Lord's wounds

	I stopped suddenly. . .
	the entrance stone was moved aside
	the sepulcher was empty
	brilliant light flooded the inside

	Within my heart something leapt
	a memory long kept
	the unmistakable stirring of LIFE. . .LIFE RENEWED
	I broke into a run
	fell weeping at the Angel's feet

	"He is no longer dead
	He has risen!"  the Angel said
	I beheld Him now
	my Jesus, my Son
	God's Glorified One!
						I could not keep Him
						I had to let Him go. . .