Close beside a wooden cross, stood a vase upon a shelf;
A chronicled alliance – God’s creation – symbolized.
The alabaster urn, a Virgin vase of beauty,
created to encompass and to ever love her Rose.
She tenderly enfolded
this bloom of love within her;
her perfumed prayers ascending
gave pleasure to the Father.
She was of rare design, this protector of the Rose,
a Vase created milky white, in alabaster prose.
Not by clay or plaster was she molded by the Potter;
No fissure or blemish was in the Vase to spoil her.
This maiden was created,
a jewel of opal beauty,
to protect and to cherish
God’s own Son, the Sharon Rose.
This figurine of loveliness, pondered in her heart,
With knowledge in her spirit, from life He’d soon depart –
Silent was her weeping as sorrow pierced her breast.
Her Rose would soon be sacrificed for humanity’s bequest.
Against her will she lingered,
watching as each petal fell;
drops of blood upon the earth
to depose the king of hell.
He cried, “Father! forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Such profound forgiveness, amazed all beside His cross.
Then the sky grew dark with misery, while raining tears of woe.
Yet, the Vase was strangely comforted, standing there below
For she heard His whispered Words,
“My Dear Woman, here’s your son,”
To John, “Here is your Mother.”
To His Father, “It is done!”