His words of love hung
in the air between
them, walking to the garden
so familiar: words
of love floating by disciples
unsure how to catch them.
Their swords and torches
tore the night apart: Judas
with the soldiers
and police of priests and teachers.
Who do you seek?
Jesus the Nazarene.
I am he.
Clattering stumble backwards,
officers fall to the ground.
Who do you seek?
Jesus the Nazarene.
I told you: I am he.
A flash of silver, from beside
him: the world stood still.
Malchus’ blood dripped louder
than their breathing – Peter
froze, but officers found their feet:
Jesus bound
Jesus taken
and the clamouring of misunderstood
words falling to the ground
deafened all with ears.
Then Peter sheathed his sword
and followed the light
as it left the garden.
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