She must have been broken.
As she watched them put those thorns on his head.
She saw them strip him of his garment.
She watched them mock him sore.
She saw the pain in his eyes.
She saw the thorns pierce his head.
She saw blood drip down his weary frame.
She saw them deny their saviour.
His hands bled from the nails.
His body tired from the stripes.
His soul troubled from the pain.
His spirit ready for release.
She carried him in her womb.
She nursed him at her breasts.
She watched him reveal himself.
She followed him as he fulfilled his destiny.
There is a mother,
Whose son died to save the world.
There is a mother,
Whose seed gave his life for many.
There is a mother,
Whose child paid the ultimate price.
She watched him bleed on the cross.
She heard him speak his last words.
She experienced her son’s love one last time.
She watched as he drew his last breath.
There is a son,
Whose love speaks louder than words.
There is a son,
Whose sacrifice gave light to the world.
There is a son,
Whose divinity has touched humanity.
A mother named Mary.
A son named Jesus.
A mother and a Saviour.
Both chosen for a reason.
She carried and nurtured the Saviour.
He died to save the world.
Mission accomplished!
© 2018, Fijabi Ufuoma
Image source: Google
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