Sunday Sonnet

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Strung from yon tree, the bleeding, broken being
Perceived beloved women down below,
Compassion wrenched his heart, his mother seeing.
What favour he upon her can bestow?
Then saw he, with the sufferers, huddled there,
The male companion whom he dearly loved,
His mother he commended to his care,
That she by him forever shall be gloved;
Affection, selfless, dwelt in mother’s heart,
Whose son surrendered to the Greater Good,
Her innocence to him she did impart,
That all may gain a wholesome livelihood.
Humility beheld the face of Grace,
The Godhead willed all suffering be displaced!

©Meanderings 2018

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