The 'Cup' - Poems about the Son and God

The clay cup has shattered: "Mum, forgive me, it was an accident!"
The lakes of guilty eyes echo the spilled water:
Ah, a child's mischief; yet an adult sorrow lies within them.
And once, You poured the sea upon the earth...

You allowed Yourself to be raised in the likeness of a boy,
Who bears scrapes on his knees and the wind in his hair.
Oh, My Jesus, Your humility is too much...
You entrusted creation to be accountable for You...

"Be more careful from now on," - in My hand a little palm -
It hid away, like a trembling bird...
And it is difficult for Me to scold You for your playfulness, My God,
As it is hard to see in it Your greatness.

In My hands are wrinkles, but in Yours lies the whole world.
You raised a new cup above our meagre feast,
And opening Your Heart, You poured forth living water -
This mischief, My Jesus, will not go unnoticed!

Cold hands folded beneath a dark cover.
Yesterday I swaddled; today You have become a wound unending.
Why, then, do You torment Me again with Your sorrowful gaze from the Cross?
Son, You will freeze... Come on, let us go home!

The clay cup has shattered. Perhaps it was time
That shook the shelf... An object knows not a long life.
A voice poured forth like living rain: "Mum, forgive Me, I will mend it!".
Jesus!
What is a cup to Me?
You are My son. And My God.

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