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A MOTHER'S LAMENT

Atop a hill of splattered red
A mother stood
In blackened mood
A scarf about her head.


The breeze caressed the raven locks
That tumbled now
Upon her brow
And lay in tangled knots


Blackened tears ran down her cheeks
Of ghostly pale
Her voice did wail
As she fell upon her knees


With heaving chest and gasping breath
A mournful prayer
She uttered there
Upon that hill of death


She raised her eyes up to the sky
Beheld aloft
The bloody cross
And softly whispered, "Why?"



© 2004 Rita L. Betti

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act or in writing from the author. Requests for permission should be addressed in writing to Rita L. Betti via the contact page.

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