Stabat mater

Stabat mater dolorosa
iuxta Crucem lacrimosa,
dum pendebat Filius.

contristantem et dolentem

Round her all the nations wept

in vigil  her in comfort kept,

until her son  to rise was seen.

Now by his side  she reigns as queen.

For her the robes are laundered white,

for her the tapers burn all night,

and daughters named abundantly:

Maria, Mary, and Marie.

*

Yet on that day another stood

alone, beneath a darker rood.

Unnamed, unknown, alone she grieves

beneath the cross reserved for thieves.

To her no dove of grace was sent;

the one she mourns  did not repent.

Her tears are dry as desert sands.

The dust enfolds her.  Still she stands.

*

For a mini-movie

of madness and salvation,

click here:

The Penitent and the Impenitent Thief

[For a somewhat similar theme, of unmediatized suffering,

cf. Kipling's poem of 1891,

"The Last of the Light Brigade."]