Poems (Kennedy)/Marys at The Cross

by Sara Beaumont Kennedy

MARYS AT THE CROSS

(SEPTEMBER, 1917)

THE place where Mary-Mother knelt
    Before the cross
Is worn with touch of many knees
Through 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.

*******

No age has missed its Calvary.
    Today the guns
Of ruthless war blaze through the land
And to the mothers send command:
    "Give us your sons!"

And, oh, the Marys that creep close
    To that still cross
And 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 wrack
Of war YOUR sons may yet come back—
    O Marys at the cross today!