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!

 

Peter!

Oh Peter

The Lord’s eyes are upon you

It is as he had told

 

You have denied

Thrice—

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)