Wednesday 1 August 2012

Olive Tree

He leaned upon
The ancient Olive tree
Its thousand years
Of waiting at an end

The Hour had come

For Him to fall prostrated
In a pool of perspired blood
The Father’s flood of silence

This alone the witness
The Olive tree and me.

A couple of thousand
Years again I prayed
Beneath the shade
Of that same tree

And there I learned
That it’s not for us
To know the joy of Rising yet
Not even death’s respite

It’s ours to hold
The cup that does not pass

The chalice that holds us
In His sacrifice

Until the Hour has come
For its consumption

1 comment:

  1. It is not easy to reach this level of acceptance of the cup that does not pass until the hour has come... but it is reassuring to know that it is possible. Thank you for 'Olive Tree'.