The last twenty four hours – bearer of agonizing anguish and hideous horror. Had I known what was to come, I would have stayed away – far away from you.
And I would have safeguarded myself from this enslaving loss. I would have listened to your compelling lessons – your world-altering truths. But I would have kept my distance
… and I, I would have sat not at your feet, but the foot of the hill. I’d have sought your perfect rest, but not at your breast.
And I can’t think of Judas and how you knew. You knew. And how Peter did just as you said – denied you. Three times denied you, and I … I wouldn’t have believed it.
The others you called, scattered. Frightened. Confused. Afraid for their lives, perhaps. And I, myself, afraid.
But the women … oh, the women … how they were there for you today along Golgotha’s way! They wiped your wounded face listened to your howls of pain watched your mother’s horror wailed until your life left and your silence spilled.
But the women remained (chained to image and sound that will never be loosed) – produced a ceaseless cry.