The Fourth Station, Jesus Meets His Sorrowful Mother

A Sorrowful Sacrifice

She finds Him in the crush of men,
a fleeting space in the pressing tide,
bloodied, bent beneath the weight
of wood and sorrow intertwined.

No words pass between them,
none are needed.
The ache in His eyes, the fire in hers,
a silent exchange of deepest grief,
of love stretched to the breaking.

Her hands once cradled His infant form,
now they tremble, empty, aching,
as the road pulls Him forward,
as the soldiers shove, as the crowd roars.

Yet she does not plead.
She does not wail.
Her heart breaks in the stillness of surrender,
shattered, yet steadfast,
pierced, yet unwavering.

For she knows,
even in the horror, even in the ache,
this is the path of love,
the bitter, holy road to redemption.

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Let us pray:

Lord Jesus, in that moment, You met the gaze
of the one who loved You most.
No protest, no resistance, only sorrow.

Mother Mary, you silently held the weight of grief,
a sword piercing your heart
as He bore the cross for us all.

Teach us to love as you love,
steadfast, selfless, surrendered.
When suffering seems unbearable,
teach us to stay, to trust, to love.
Mary, walk with us in our sorrows.
Amen.