You Young Wild Thing

Mother Mary the Saint

In the distance; in a barn
Mother Mary the saint
Cradles within her arms
A beautiful baby boy
Who's blood is divine
Who's body is that of Christ

Only 14, she sings to him
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You'll make me happy when sky's are grey
You'll never know dear, how much I'll love You, so please don't take my sunshine away
Gently, she coos and hums
Holds him like you would a flower
On the edge of breaking

When god comes the next morning
He'll be met with her precarious questions
He'll tell her that the baby is a gift from him
His name is Jesus
And she is to care for him
He will tell her that someday in the near distant future
He will be crucified; he will save lives; deliver everyone from their sins
And Mary, she can't do anything to save him
For he is not hers
He belongs to God first
Even then and with little complaint
Without so much as a word
She raises him anyway

First she'll decide to bathe him
She'll warm the water perfectly and rinse him softly
She'll make him a beard out of bubbles
She'll laugh when she sees it
And she'll cry when he utters his first word
She'll cry even harder when he takes his first step
She'll dress him and teach him everything he knows
He'll carry her words, her teachings, her prayers
Most importantly, he'll carry her blood
Like mother; like son

He will learn from her
How to do math; how to write a poem; how to build a home; how to love; how to be loved; how to pray; how to feel
She'll teach him how to cook
And how to clean
How to read
And how to laugh

He'll carry her likeness
He'll make the same jokes
And his laugh will be like hers
He will share her gentle touch
And the warmth of her soul
The strength of her heart
And the courage of her oath
He'll be her son just as much as she will be his mother
Like mother; like son

Mother Mary the saint
Will cradle that baby long into adulthood
She will know that he will die
The whole time; she knows
His body; his life; a sacrifice
For the sins of those she doesn't know
Mother Mary the saint
At only 14
Has become a mother
To a baby that is not hers

He grew in her body
He will be raised by her
He will be just like her
He will share her nose and her ears
Right down to his eyes
He has the face of his mother
But no, he is not hers
He is gods
He will die on a cross
To deliver us from evil
To deliver us from our sins

Mother Mary the saint
Will lose her baby
But she will raise him anyway

What does this say about women?
What does this say about courage?
Mary was undermined she did not matter
She was an incubator for Christ
She was a cow to be milked
Beyond that she was nothing
That was her baby
They killed her baby
And no one seems to care

In the distance; in a barn
Mother Mary the saint
Cradles within her arms
A beautiful baby boy

Slowly, she rocks him
And sings a special lullaby
Made just for him
She looks him over
10 fingers and 10 toes
Beautiful brown eyes
And curly dark hair
I can't get too close
She whispers
I can't risk it
She knows he isn't really hers
And he'll die young
She knows she shouldn't get too close
For she'll lose him anyway
But there under the stars, holding him tight
Her heart opens and swallows him whole
And showers him in tears of love
I love you
She gives in; he's her baby
So she thinks

At only 14 she becomes a mother
To a baby that will never truly be hers
His name is Jesus
And he is her world
Poor Mary never stood a chance
She cradles him tight every night
She pours her love
And hopes that when that dreaded day comes
Jesus will know—at the very least—that he was loved
For more than just his prophecy

Mother Mary the saint
Did everything she could
I hope she knows that
And I hope God told her so
That much he owes
She was his incubator
And he is to give her the throne.

Mary deserved better.