Reluctantly, He had let her go,
“Just to get a few things” she had said.
He was anxious if she was out of his sight for even a moment,
His heart racing as the words constantly lingered
“Behold you Mother”.
But she had reassured him “Only an hour, perhaps less”.
Of course He would go to her first.
It was Sunday midday
And He had come to her as she knew He would.
She had knelt to roll up a small rug
And behind her she had heard His voice- “Mary”.
The voice of her Son who was more than her Son.
She turned, still on her knees, trembling,
Her eyes transfixed, their gaze brimming with love,
A pulsating current of soft white light connecting them.
They made no move toward each other
For the space between them did not exist and
In the silence they made no sound for none was needed.
There was no touch, yet He filled every pore
There was no time, yet He’d be gone in an instant,
There was only this moment, their love, and eternity.
When she returned to John- he knew.