AND I (ode to John the Beloved)
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.
The women,
and I.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April Poem-a-Day Challenge at Poetic Asides (Day 2: Write a What does the future hold poem).
pictured words 