Tuesday, April 9, 2013

john, on saturday



John, on Saturday

“But God, the eternal Presence,
does not permit Himself to be held.” –Buber


If I had known
King Jesus
would be gone
with the dawn of
Queen Sabbath
I would have eaten
more bitter herbs
this Passover,
I would have
dipped thrice
the karpas
in salted water
then swallowed
six cups of tears
to treble the darkness
of these two
crying eyes,
blind with fear.

Mother of God,
He made me your son—
comfort me
so I may comfort you.

Let us have
the last supper
one last time—
let us linger once more
in the eternal present
so I may never forget
His rough fingers,
dirty from washing my
tired feet.

Recline here—
let me lay my head
on your breast
in softened remembrance
and recall
the smell of His sweat.

The roasted egg,
lifted from the fire
of trial,
crumbled in my
fumbling hands.

The matza, striped and pierced—
His life on the table—
nothing left over.

If I had known this was
our last slave’s meal
I would have invited
twelve more
so there would
always be five thousand baskets
of bread for the poor.

The cup, empty—
as my mouth is of words
and His side of blood.

Jesus, if I had known you would leave
your firstborn weeping that night,
I would have pressed my lips
to your side
to close the wound
in prevenient healing,
leaving the Red Sea unparted,

but I drank the third cup
not knowing
I hailed your friendless
execution,
drinking like the
Dead Sea—
swallowing
life from the river
to flow nowhere
and for naught
but possession.

Holding you,
eating you,
drinking you,
I killed you.

I did not know, good shepherd.

If I had
I would have
baptized myself
in thirst.







by troy cady













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