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