Station XIV: Jesus is laid in the tomb

7:46 PM Marcellino DAmbrosio 1 Comments

Soft linen wrapped sticky skin,
lain down in lonely dark stone,
cold earth’s womb.

His mother remembers the last time
She wrapped him up in linen.
He was all squinty eye'd and crying.
In swaddling finery.
He wore it like a prince.
He was much smaller then,
So delicate, so beautiful;
A promise, the hope of victory.

Her husband had put new hay in the stone trough
And when Jesus finally slept,
there, He lay still
Peace hung about him,
His adornment

Now, again, he lays, on stone
wrapped in swaddling cloths.
But now, body broken,
Choked, pierced, bashed, and bruised
Yellow, green, purple, blue
Cold lips and tender, discolored, hands.
He makes of this new stone, a manger.

He was born in a cave,
She thought.