Follow Him

It is hard to watch as I see you walk in this parched heat. The ground is so rocky and your feet by the end of the day is blistered by the hours you spend walking from one place to another. Do the people see this, Son?

I follow you.

I see you touch this person, I see you speak to another and they are healed of their infirmities and that which had imprisoned their souls. Do they thank you Son?

I stand apart, yet, as one with your circle of friends. They love you, but not as I love you. Do they understand Love, Son?

I follow you.

Ah, I watch as your face alights when the little one's rush forward. Your laughter rings through the air, what a joy it is to hear. But Son, do you remember when I held you close to my own heart?

Once again I see you walk in your gentle manner towards the rocky ground as you seek silence to pray. My eyes follow you from a distance as you disappear from my sight. Do they understand prayer, Son?

I follow you.

You are surrounded by your friends as you speak words of Wisdom to them. Your face lights up as you speak about Heavenly things. But Son, am I the only one to see the shadow which passes across your face?

I hear your friends promise to do mighty things for love of you. They rely on their strength without fully understanding what real strength is. Yet there is one who unsettles my heart, he turns from you when you reach out to him. Do you see his rejection Son?

I follow you.

It is difficult when I see strangers in fine clothes criticize you. Yes, I hear the murmers which strike at my own heart. Do you hear them Son?

Ah, finally I see the crowds throw Palms before your feet. Their voices sing out Hosanna, such rejoicing. But, do they know who you are Son?

I follow you.

A terrible forboding fills my heart, I hear the murmers grow. The whispering grows stronger by the hour, despite all you have said and done they do not believe. Have they stopped listening to you Son?

I see you beloved of my heart as you kneel before your friends and wash their feet. My mind wonders back to the days when I bathed you and held you in my arms as you gurgled and smiled at me. I watch from a distance as you break bread, my head is bowed. Do they understand the significance Son?

I follow you.

One leaves early, my heart is deeply troubled. My body trembles as my ear catches more whispering. These are the same people who killed the Prophets. I hear your voice ring out strongly, I listen to you Son.

Can I come to you my Son? May I hold you in my arms? Will you be my son for just one more day? I have heard the Prophets of Old, I have listened to you Son, but when I close my eyes I see you, tiny, innocent, loving, holding out your arms to me. Can I be just another mother for one more day Son?

I follow you.

I can find no rest tonight. I pace the room and in the sanctum of my heart I cry out to God who strengthens me. I look out the window and though the world continues to turn as the night closes in, still my heart finds no rest this long and lonely night. Who is keeping watch with you Son?

While I kneel in prayer I hear hurried feet, I rise to face the news. They are like children, lost and forlon when the snow shuts out the sun. My heart fills with pity as I console them. We go in search of you. Will others go in search of you my Son?

I follow you.

There are crowds everywhere. Where are you Son? I must find you. I am jostled too and fro we stand in the courtyard as the news reaches us. You have been condemned, I must find you. Where are you my Son?

I feel the sobs of your friend who stands beside me, he is trying to be strong. I take his hands and look into his eyes, he looks away. Who can bear to look into my eyes? We hear from a distance 'Crucify him.' Where are your friends my Son?

I follow you.

We hurry to find you Son, I will not leave you. The crowd parts and at last I see your beloved face, my knees give way at the sight. Your friends hold me up as each fist strikes my own heart. My heart is faint as they scourge you, the face I once held to my breast is now beaten and bloody. Is that you my Son? Beneath the blood, the sweat and the mucus is that you my Son? My beloved Son? I will not leave you my Son.

We follow your broken and bloodied body as you try and carry that heavy Cross. You fall and I cover my face, what mother can bear it? If it were not for our friends I would be unable to walk, but I will not leave you Son. Our eyes meet. Agony is met with agony, I reach out to you. I am here my Son.

I follow you.

I look up and there you are before me. I hear the taunts from the crowds, were these not the same who sang Hosanna's to you my beloved Son? I hear you cry out as my own soul is rent asunder and my silent scream reaches the Heaven's. Will anyone understand such an agony? I fall to the ground as your blood drenches my own clothes and with words unspoken I plead in my heart, 'give me the body of my bloodied and ragged Son.' I hold you to my heart, though it beats my heart is broken. My tears fall onto your stiff and quiet face as I hold you to myself. I didn't leave you Son..I didn't leave You.

Later Peter comes to see me. My heart fills with pity he is a broken man. I take his hand, look into his eyes and say to him.....

Follow Him.

Written by Marie