She came to stave off just a few short days
Fulfillment of decay that had begun
Some several thousand years ago, and lays
Deep buried at the core of everyone.
She came with bitter spices rare and sweet,
To offer one last service to her Lord,
To give His death the honor due and meet.
She came, her heart sore pierced as with a sword.
A flaming sword, when angels cleared the way,
And death itself lay slain before her feet,
On this the dawning third and sacred day,
Bewildered until He Himself would greet
Her by her name of bitterness and pain,
Now raised to joy with Christ her Lord once slain.
A Sonnet for Petertide.
19 hours ago