Poems (Kennedy)/Marys at The Cross
MARYS AT THE CROSS
(SEPTEMBER, 1917)
THE place where Mary-Mother knelt Before the crossIs worn with touch of many kneesThrough all the crawling centuries Of pain and grief and loss.
Low bent, she lifted up her eyes, All unafraid,To that dear face grown white and cold,And yet—we are not even told That Mary prayed.
But, oh, her knees pressed hard, so hard The rugged stone.The call of sacrifice rang in her soul,And she gave back, at that high goal, To God what was His own.
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No age has missed its Calvary. Today the gunsOf ruthless war blaze through the landAnd to the mothers send command: "Give us your sons!"
And, oh, the Marys that creep close To that still crossAnd kneel where Mary-Mother knelt,And know the agony she felt Of bitter pain and loss!
O many mothers, kneeling there, Your crucial hour has come—You pray, your hearts grief-torn and wild,That God will spare to you your child! But—Mary's lips were dumb.
Dumb, for she knew that was the end. But YOU may pray—(Wear smooth the stones beneath your knees!)Since from the storm and roar and wrackOf war YOUR sons may yet come back— O Marys at the cross today!