Sacred Mysteries of the Rosary

 

The Joyful Mysteries

Not a man, this messenger announcing.

Not by man, but by God’s will, this opening.

You have been favored to be God’s mother.

So it will be, as I serve the Other.

 

Beautiful the feet, her journey complete.

God’s family with man; grains of new wheat.

Convey the Divine, bring forth His spirit.

Magnify and rejoice as you hear it.

 

Singular birth, most humble beginning.

A King in a manger, nothing stranger.

From above, afar, the fields, are coming;

Famished seekers, relieved of their hunger.

 

This truth can’t be known; it must be revealed;

Adored or rejected; thoughts unconcealed.

God, as a baby, our arms can enfold.

Piercing projected; such sorrow foretold.

 

“The son must obey the father,” He said.

Joyful reunion, such sorrowful dread;

“You see, I was at home. I was not lost.”

She ponders, says “Yes,” whatever the cost.

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The Luminous Mysteries

Bathed in our sins and so bearing our cost.

Fulfilling by willing, saving the lost.

Present in sacrament, baptism first.

Trinity rising from water’s rebirth.

 

Now, Mother? Yes, time to let joy overflow.

Wedding and feasting, delights that will show.

You’ve come to bring joy, reveal His design.

Presence brings comfort, so share such as thine.

 

His Kingdom nears; the King appears.

Return from exile, cast off your stale fears.

Sown in seedlings, true harvest will ripen.

Remorse meets mercy, stony hearts open.

 

Please stop, I’m sorry to see this vision.

I don’t understand this fearful mission.

Fear not, I’m with you; I know what you need.

With time, you will see the new life I breed.

 

This bread is my body, for you given.

Forgive them again, seven times seven.

The cup is a promise, never broken.

Do as I do, you’ll not be forsaken.

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The Sorrowful Mysteries

The consoling angel daubs beads of blood

As tears and sweat form into pools of mud.

Above their anguished groaning can be heard,

‘Be done to me according to your word.’

 

Beads and hooks arrayed along leather strips

Like birds of prey strike the flesh they assail.

How can it be that those wielding the whips

Are healed by this very one that they flail.

 

My pride and arrogance a mockery

Of you wearing that wicked crown for me.

Imitating your naked humbleness

Merits the cloak in which I hope to dress.

 

Too heavy, too great, too fearful for me.

Yet fear is tempered by pity for thee.

Who carries my guilt, pays my penalty

Through death on a cross to eternity.

 

Transfixed is my gaze, my hopes pinned on thee,

Hanging suspended on Calvary’s tree.

“I thirst,” you say, as you pour out your heart.

“Finished,” you say, creating a new start.

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The Glorious Mysteries

Do dim tombs typically bloom with light?

Who once entombed wakes to a morning bright?

Do burial clothes often display their wearer?

Who bears wounds in a body now fairer?

 

Beyond sight to wider light, He rises.

Here now ever present, He surprises.

Beyond time to forever, He returns.

The path beyond history, He confirms.

 

Heavenly intruder in fire descends.

I am love; you shall love; love never ends.

God present for all, Church for a body.

Go tell it, go share it; for all, it’s free.

 

Bodies only went the way of all flesh,

From ashes to ashes until that day.

Lifted high for her maker to cherish.

She first, before all others, gone this way.

 

A Queen is in Heaven, mother love reigns.

Mercy, she offers, and prayer she explains.

Guide us through exile, in tears do we plead.

Return home, take shelter; hope will succeed.

 

copyright 2025 Tom Medlar