Wrinkled hands tried to hold the warm blood that was dripping down while slowly the throbbing scarlet fluid stills in death. The hands slowly close into fists with smears of the warm red liquid seeping through the trembling fingers. The shaking shoulders tenderly lifted up the dripping hands to the lined face drenched with tears. With a vision so dimmed by raging pain no words could be understood through her voice... only the animal sounds of deep anguish and grief could be hear. She tried to tear through her pain to make the mental words of a prayer.
"God..... God....God of my fathers...... he was the Messiah! He was my darling! He was my life! They have killed my miracle Son..why God? why.......
My Son is dead.... my heart is broken beyond belief. How could they have done this wicked thing! He was our redeemer in Israel. He was.... he was....he was. Why God? He was the only One who could heal.... the only One who could raise the dead! God of my fathers we are doomed... they have killed the Messiah! My Son.... my messiah... my Jesus!
With a silent scream that shook her soul she shouted the loud raging emotions in her heart, "All I have is his blood!!! His blood! God of my fathers.... His blood.....
She kisses her bloody hands and covers her face with both, not caring that the red streaks of pulsing blood now spread to her face now made her unrecognizable to those around her. "He was all I had.."
As she is gently led away from the ghastly scene from others who are sobbing, she can only cry "He's gone... my Jesus is gone.." And in her despair she is overwhelmed with sorrow and can barely stumble to walk over the rugged rocks that covered the land.
And God the Father.... watches her grief and misunderstanding.... and closes the eyes of daylight to hide Mary from satan's vicious glee. Knowing time will bring the victory to her sorrow.
In 3.... short ....days...
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