Rogue Homilies by Deidre Price

a study of life that smacks of the divine

A Good Friday Reflection from a Mother to a Mother

Blood Moon

I hold my son closer on Good Friday,
the day another mother could not hold her own.

I cut crusts from turkey sandwiches,
send him off for a preschool party
where he will find plastic eggs and joy in grass.

Another mother stands in sand,
sees her son given over to death
for three hundred dollars by a friend.

My son’s friends say goodbye
with hugs in hallways
near Resurrection signs in construction paper.

But today another mother grieves
sweat and blood and breath,
sees him thirst.

My son thirsts, too, and I pass a cup
he fills with crushed ice and pure water.
He drinks in peace.

This other mother’s son dies in front of her
as she hears the words, “It is finished.”

Still a blood moon comes tonight
and I keep holding my son closer,
the day another mother could not hold her own.

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1 Comment

  1. Elizabeth Ray

    April 4, 2015 at 5:42 am

    You made me cry.

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