For the Love of Judith.

Judith must be punished for her unborn sins,

and haunted by her unborn fears.

She will beg her powerless mother for that

which the Sun and the Moon cannot give.

A trusting child tells with a momentary stare,

that she cannot wait to live,

Yet she cries and bleeds, pure and aware,

as the ghost of a dying God appears.

 

The smoke and fog of joy, on the barren hills

of promise fade away to reveal,

A clearing where a Mother and Daughter can

find truth in this awkward chastity.

The young women wearing colourful masks of

bliss and happiness have come to heal,

While the dark and jealous crones paint black

portraits of pain and lay beds of misery.

 

 

 

 

 

Their betraying love is not real but mere glass,

that by hand has the face of a jewel.  

Their offering of hope and trust mean nothing

as they nail Judith’s hands to the stake.

The black vultures of torment, circle,

as the faithful put fires to the fuel.

 And her mother’s screaming and lone cries

of anguish, leave none innocent in their wake.

 

Yet her tortured Mother who gave Judith her life,

smiles exquisitely, as they start.

Together they begin their secret flight, that

lifts them high above this tragedy,

As love and hatred both rip and tear,

at the soul like arrows into a dead heart.

In this painful and mysterious world,

there is no greater form of archery,

Than the acceptance of clear blue eyes,

the disarming smile of the condemned in fear,

And the tender sounds of assent,

that are being whispered too soft for some to hear.

Our dying God says,” Yes, it is now, Judith will be born today,

so, all stand clear!”