Madonna

Madonna eyes,
looking down
to the beating heart

held in hands so gentle....
loving, molding, preparing
him for the pathway

to his personal cross....

Madonna tears,
falling warm and wet,
down the face that maps

the destinies of those that suffer....
tears that have names,
known by no other....

nailed one by one till death relieves.

Madonna hope,
wrapped in flesh and longing,
head bowed down,

as if to pray!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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