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Jesus
I kneeled to ask
a word from you.
Something about the lofty
drama of your crucifixion –
eclipsed by
echo-empty tomb
in morning hushed garden
hallelujah angel song
purest waxen lilies exulting
in resurrection light.
Instead
you gave hard sayings
about love of neighbour
self-renunciation –
uncovered the stinking rags
of my pretensions.
You mentioned dirty feet
slivers tears betrayal
bruises on the Calvary road
nailed death on a bloody post.
On a chilly lakeshore morning
your probing eyes asked
Do you love me?
Esther Regehr is a writer from Waterloo, Ont.
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