Wisdom calls from time to the Eternal

Luke 22:14–23:56 and Psalm 31:9–16. 

Passion Sunday


it comes to this.
slow and steady we walked
the path before us,
till now, suddenly,
here we are – the moment
we cannot avoid,
though inside I feel I am
running – running –
outside, paralysed
of my own will, this thing
will carry me now,
so it seems

forgive me.
this distress wastes my eyes
with grieving, wastes my body,
wastes my soul of all strength.
this life is all sorrow;
my years all sighing.
I, like the psalmist, am scorned
by adversaries; am horror, am
dread for my friends –
their flights begin, and I
abandoned, broken, become.

the whispers, the plots,
the schemes against my life!
I am dead already, or so
it seems.

forgive me.
I do trust You, trust Us,
this call we cry again
through this body, this life:
but it is heavy, I feel alone.
remind me I am
not
let our lovingkindness be
what carries me,
what will deliver me,
into and from the hands
of these oppressors.
shine on through me,
shine bright for me,
when all is lost, or
so it seems.