Sorrowful Mysteries

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The Sorrowful Mysteries of Lent

 

Oh my Jesus,

I sit here in the warm spring of Lent

as though for the first time,

Realizing once again and suddenly,

that, like you, I too am a Son of Man.

 

For long now I have searched for the Father and Mother in dream,

Dark dreams filled with rank rebellion and terror of death.

 

Even though I have never stopped running

you have always been with me.

Like time past you are always behind me.

Like time future you are always in front of me

Like the present from which I hide you are in me.

 

Even though I chose to forget that I have always known you,

Worse, I chose to forget that I had chosen to forget you.

You have never once stopped interceding to our parents on my behalf.

 

You are here.

You reach into the nothingness, grasp my hand

even as I shy away and draw me out

You turn your luminous countenance upon my

lowered gaze and closed eyes and fill me with light

You call my name,

and my dumb ears are filled with silence and my frantic mind with tranquility.

 

Before I am, you are. Before I was, you will be. Before I will be, you were.

I came from you. I return to you and only you. I

belong to you.

Too long have I walked in darkness and lived in dream, Oh my Lord!

 

I will sit now in the garden with you.

I will wear my crown.

I will pick up my cross and follow you.

 

No longer will I be a prodigal to love.

I return with you to the parents who sent you to us.

 

Like you, I am a Son of Man,

realizing once again and suddenly

as though for the first time

the warm spring of Lent

Oh my, Chevalier.

 

-Mark Christopher Valentine