Pieta by Cassy King

My dad showed me this beautiful poem in the paper ceated by Cassy King.

Mary Grieves.

How hard it must be,
to balance the mangled body
between her knees
and in her mind.

Draped like the folds of her dress
he spills across her.
One arm hangs like a broken wing.

She sits because
she cannot rise,

what she holds in her mind
is more than a prayer
more than a plea

words, yes,
and memories
spill over the sides.

She longs to speak to
him
one more time
to wake him
have him brush her cheek
to tell him
all the thing whispered
when he was young

Things she taught him,
Things he learned on his own,
Things he just knew:

How to lace his sandals;
the meaning of woman
touching his garment hem;
His soul too large to cradle;

She wonders without thinking-
Alpha and Omega - Is this
the end or the beginning?