Peter's embrace

[turtlesturtles]

Standing, watching the crucifiction,
John turned to me and, with a gleam in his eye
That was not the product of his sadness,
Commented on the word fiction, and
Laughed - a short and loud noise that
Split the air and caused the hair to rise
On Mary's neck. Her look was pained,
Without judgement but without warmth.
She was dying I think, watching her son
Succomb to love, and knowing
Having given her life for it, that it was not
Worth the suffering, but how to explain
Such earthly words, to a son of God?

He was her son too, of course, her flesh
And blood, but they would not care.
Her screams, her agony had brought him to this
World, and yet his other Creator would bring him to
This death. She hated him then, I wager
Hated the goodness and the glory and the grim
Sight of her only Son, her child, her life
Fading painfully and slowly on a cross while
He had chosen it, arranged it and decided it
Had sent her child to his death without a word to her.
Her used and spent body shook, and I moved to her
My arms holding her as her heavenly lover never had
And we wept as the last breaths escaped the Son of Mary.