Salt smells from the sea

dark grove of olive trees

globe of an opalescent moon

burnishing the crown

of his head.

First evening dew

clings to his robes

his sandaled feet

crunching the crusty earth.

In a bright circle,

he sinks to his knees

resting his elbows

on massive stone.

Clasping his hands

he bows his head

as he enters

into the presence

of his father.

Father it is I,

your son.

I have come

for your blessing.

This world you made

is more beautiful tonight

than it has ever seemed before.

My love for my brothers

and my sisters

is woven into my spirit.

I will do anything

you require of me

for their sake,

but if there is some other way..

his voice falters,

his tears flowing,

some way this cup

can pass from me...

He waits.

Then in rivulets,

droplets of blood red

appear on his brow.

Your will be done

my father.

Be it as you will have it.

On the hill above

this already ancient city

moonlight castes itself

upon Golgotha.

His shoulders quake

in anguish

as they accept the sins

of the world.

 

Copyright 1999 Clarey London/BR Lazo

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