Immaculate Mary, Mother Of God Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Immaculate Mary, Mother of God,
how you must have wept when
they murdered your Son.
How did it feel to stand at
the side and witness the spikes
they drove into His innocent flesh?
Blessed Mary, Mother of us all.
Every strike of the hammer must
have been a blow to your heart.
To see your only Son so brutally abused.
Perhaps remembering the night
He was born from your womb.
What ambitions did you have for Him?
What plan was in your mind for
your only child born from
your Virgin flesh?
You knew that He was the Saviour.
You knew He would redeem
the world through His sacrifice.
Holy Mary, Immaculate Mary
How did you feel when they
raised Him on the cross?
Watching Him die, watching
His life flow out from His body.
Precious Mary, Sweet Mother,
Your blessed flesh had nurtured Him.
Your holy hands had loved Him,
bathed Him, fed Him,
instructed Him, touched Him.
Immaculate Mary, Mother of God,
how did it feel to watch your Son die?