Truly, O blessed Mother, a sword has pierced your heart.  For only by passing through your heart could the sword enter the flesh of your Son.  Indeed, after your Jesus — who belongs to everyone, but is especially yours — gave up his life, the cruel spear, which was not withheld from his lifeless body, tore open his side.  Clearly it did not touch his soul and could not harm him, but it did pierce your heart.  For surely his soul was no longer there, but yours could not be torn away. . . Perhaps someone will say: “Had she not known before that he would die?”  Undoubtedly.  ”Did she not expect him to rise again at once?”  Surely.  ”And still she grieved over her crucified Son?”  Intensely.  Who are you and what is the source of your wisdom that you are more surprised at the compassion of Mary than at the passion of Mary’s Son?  For if he could die in body, could she not die with him in spirit?  He died in body through a love greater than anyone had known.  She died in spirit through a love unlike any other since his.

– From a sermon by St. Bernard, taken from the Divine Office of Readings for Sept. 15

Theotokôs

I’m “The Mother of God”
at the foot of the Cross clutching at

Simeon’s sword impaled in my breast

where the blood of despair trickles
betwixt my fingers
as the sword pierces next

my heart, my mind, my
soul, my very being there
washes me
in the blood of the
Lamb, again, as at His birth

while the rabble twist and turn the

blade with their jeers and scorn, and
their catcalls taunting Him to

save Himself, let alone the world

til only me, I’m left with just
His striped God-forsaken Body. I
sink to my knees, praying
my prayer to doubt
my doubt that true to His Word

He will

do what He said He would do,
three days hence; and my wounds

will be no more. Forever.

Carl Winderl, 1999