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9 months ago

MomsBook_asof9.18.17

The Sixth of Sorrows

The Sixth of Sorrows When all was said and done you must have gone somewhere, and yet you disappear as though your story had no further meaning. Tell me, Mary, I want to know. Did you walk as far as Bethany bent beneath the early evening chill? Or did you slip along the shadows of the city walls to hide your disbelief? Who took you in? Someone must have washed the Sabbath plates, set food and candles on the table. Who said the blessing and lit the flame? How I hope that no one dared to greet you with the sacred prayer, Shabbat Shalom. There wasn’t any peace that night for you.

Sorrow has a way of closing throats, of shutting out the air for words, the food we need. Perhaps you tried to find the thread of life you dropped beside his grave, as women often do, to start the weaving once again before the fabric fades. Tell me I need to know. When darkness came and the Temple courts stood mute, when soldiers changed the guard and birds flew home to roost - Tell me Mater Dolorosa Did you ever get to sleep?