Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MATER DOLOROSA, by MATTIE HALLAM LACY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MATER DOLOROSA, by                    
First Line: My race, my name, my country? His? Why care?
Last Line: Men made god lord ... (have I long, god, to wait?)


My race, my name, my country? His? Why care?
It should not matter, since his lips are sealed.
I am only mother ... that boy's ... lying there
Drenched in red blood! (O, God, that I be steeled!
That I have strength!) .. I wail no coronach.
Why should I? Now no further hurt can come.
Spirit unharmed, I soon shall have him back,
Heeding no blare of trumpet, beat of drum!

For him the jubilate! ... Yet, I mourn,
With other mothers who have mothered men,
Their lack of mercy, scourge of blackest hate.
He was and is the son that I have borne.
The quarrel is none of his, nor has it been.
Men made God lord ... (Have I long, God, to wait?)





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