Friday, March 21, 2025

When Two Eyes Met


Dear Parishioners,
Back in 1982, when I was reflecting on the Stations of the Cross during Lent, I wrote the following poem when thinking about the 4th Station: Jesus Meets His Mother.  I pray that it may lead you to a deeper insight and appreciation of a Mother’s love for her Son and a Son’s love for his Mother.
The Meeting of the Eyes (The Fourth Station)
             On Via Crucis the time arrived
                         When they should meet each other.
                             He bore the timber:  the saving cross;
                            Redemption out of Adam’s loss—
                        Slowly he neared his Mother.

She stood and watched her only Son
                        And shared the pain he knew.
                                                A feeling so helpless and ever-intense;
                                                An ache in the womb:  her motherly sense
                        That longed to do more than view.

His face was covered with dirt and blood;
                        His body all scarred from beating.
                                                A crown of thorns upon his head
                                                Pressed cruelly down until he bled.
                       Yet his eyes awaited the meeting.

He knew his Mother to be close by;
                        She carried him in his youth.
                                                Upward he sought and she was there;
                                                Her aid by presence and inner prayer.
                        She cried to the Father for truth.

And now their eyes had pierced each other;
                        All hurt and sorrow laid bare.
                                                Her eyes peered into eternity—
                                                His eyes beheld her purity—
                        The words unspoken spoke care.

Flowed down his brow this Victim’s blood,
                        Co-mingled with a tear.
                                                His sight more blind as each drop fell
                                                Into those eyes she knew so well.
                        Hers filled with pain and fear.

From distance still she kept her watch
                        As soldiers forced him on.
                                                Her will unceasing in its trust
                                                Of God, all-loving and all-just.
                        Life’s victory shall be won.

Internal pangs:  a sword so sharp;
                        She tended upon the death-spot.
                                                Though in her heart she yearned to be
                                                Fastened also upon the tree,
                        Her silence continued the fiat.
                                                                                                                                                


© 1982 Edward F. Namiotka

No comments:

Post a Comment