She wrapped him in swaddling clothes
And laid him in a cradle.
She wasn’t Mary.
He wasn’t Jesus.
Still, she suffers his pain in silence as his enemies:
Blame, Regret, Bitter Disappointment and Guilt
daily curse, rob, beat, then leave him for dead.
And all she can do is wait,
weep, and feel each
blow, each accusation
in her own bones.
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