A poem for this feast of Our Lady of Sorrows:

Christ and His Mother at the Cross

Christ:
Mother, take my broken heart
For your own to share apart.
John, beloved as you are
Shall be to you a son.

John, my mother here behold;
Take her tenderly and hold
her in your love.  For she is cold,
her heart has come undone.

Mary:
Son, your spirit has gone forth.
Son of all surpassing worth.
My eyes are in their vision dark
And dying is my heart.

Hear me, Son, so innocent,
Son of light magnificent
Spending and now spent,
and only darkness for my part.
Son of whiteness and of rose,
Son unrivaled as the snows,
Son my bosom held so close,
My heart, where have you gone?

John, disciple whom he loved,
your brother must be dead,
for I feel the sword through me
as prophesied.

Jacopone da Todi