The Hour


Oh Lord! Lord! Straightway,

The multitude is here

With sword, with staves

Even Judas— with kiss


Why have they come?

What charge have they brought?

He, amongst you daily

In the temple he taught


There, your reproach proven insufficient

Neither hand you stretched forth

Now you convene as to trap a thief

With staves, with swords


Yet this is your hour

The hour!

They have taken my Lord


Woman, you are wrong

Man… I am not!

This man I don’t know!

With him I’ve not walked!



Oh Peter

The Lord’s eyes are upon you

It is as he had told


You have denied


Before the cock has crowed


Weep, weep Peter—

Weep All


Do you here it!

They mock him so!

Smote his face!


Yet this is there hour

The hour!

They have taken my Lord


Forthcoming Poetry Book (The Prodigal Son)