Petition At Gethsemane

Forgive me, Father, I’m afraid.

These people need compassion; How

does my death love them?

When the crows pluck out my eyes

who will see your Children’s light?

The moldering Christ cannot

lay hands upon them, cannot awaken them,

comfort or protect them.


Take this cup, Abba,

give it to the zealots.

Milk-laden sheep of Israel ache,

bleating for the return of

their butchered lambs.

If Barabbas or Judas or Peter

won’t fulfill your prophecy,

then please, God, just this

once, couldn’t you drink

the bitter wine yourself?Image_


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