Imagine a Garden (Maundy Thursday 2)

Imagine a garden. Is it what you thought it would be

when the sun was stolen and the son knelt down

amidst the discarded leaves and unsprung life.

Your eyes close but not in prayer,

you stare into the void of night

and sight dims with fatigue.

You clasped your hands, the same hands

that had grasped the cup of wine

just hours before; they still tremble.

Your voice raises no cry to heaven

instead the melody of sleep permeates the air

as the heir to the kingdom searches God.

Take this cup, this suffering, this night and tomorrow

if only you will, but still your will not mine be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

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