Forestalled Poem by B. V. Dahlen

The mother saw her toddler fall.
Even before she heard his call

She rapidly was at his side,
And with her veil his tears were dried.

She kissed the bloodied knee he raised,
And cleaned the wound that stones had grazed.

Her efforts brought a quivering grin
That warmed her mother's heart within.

Then two and thirty years passed by.
Again she listened to his cry.

This time he fell more heavily
Upon his bruised and bloodied knee.

A heavy cross his shoulder bore,
And thorns his gentle brow did score.

The mocking voices stormed her ears.
A din that bathed her face with tears.

She saw the anguish in his eyes.
The blood, the wounds, the darkening skies

Consumed her soul with agony
As only mothers' hearts can be.

She could not aide him crumpled there.
She could not touch his blood-stiff hair.

A Roman guard between them stood,
And blocked her arms that reaching would

Have lifted and consoled her child,
Would block those jeering sounds reviled,

But she was helpless, forced to see
Her son nailed harshly to a tree,

His side be pierced by soldier's lance,
And there to stand within her trance

Of misery that crushed her soul.
Maternal love conferred it's toll.

She silent stood remembering
A fragrant day in early spring

When she had seen her toddler fall
But then could kiss and fix it all.