To His Mother on Holy Saturday

The Holy Word once nourished in your womb
Lies silent in His well-created earth.
Your sword-pierced heart is shrouded in the tomb,
As was foretold at His miraculous birth.
While chaos tries to overwhelm your soul
You dare to hope your pondered words are true:
That God’s own Son holds all in His control,
And by His grace shall all the earth renew.
Dearest mother of the dearest Son,
Weep now, but soon your Son shall rise,
Undoing sin which left the world undone
And breaking chains forged by the tempter’s lies.
The Promised One has died to set the captives free,
And with His rising, death and woe will flee.

Copyright © 2015, 2021, 2024 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)

---

Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.