A poem for each new day
It's pouring down rain on this solemn Friday. The Good Friday we call it. Although I don't know why, because this day our Lord died. But then again, today salvation was born again. The Heavens are crying. Crying at recapping that sorrowful day long ago when our Lord Jesus was arrested and thrown so cruelly into prison. Remembering the Scourging. The Crowning with thorns. The falling beneath that heavy cross He carried. The stripping of His clothes off that bloodied flesh. Yes, the heavens are crying.
At such pitiful a sight, the Heavens also cry at seeing Mary's Immaculate Heart pierced with so many swords. She carried Her Sorrows as only a Mother could. With tears that wouldn't stop and an ache that would never ever go away.
Today, we unite our tears with the Heavens. As together we wash the blood from the ground. Having had it sink deep into the dirt. Never to be washed away. Never to be forgotten. This is God's land. And in His most Precious Blood we were saved.