(“But all this happened, so that what the prophets wrote would come true.

All of Jesus’ disciples left him and ran away.” Matthew 26:56)

  

Would I leave You too,

Would I fulfill a word spoken

Centuries before by prophets who

Never knew me?

 

Did I overstay my welcome,

Did I overplay my hand,

Did I underscore my terror,

Did I understand anything

You ever said?

 

Once I ran, where would I hide,

And once I hid, what would I find?

 

 I follow to the river’s edge, but never dive in.

 (Between you and me, surface tension never made

 for sure footing)

  

It doesn’t work to tell You I’m tired,

Wearied as You were in the garden.

It doesn’t play to tell You I’m lonesome,

Empty as Your final days were.

 

So, if You’ll walk just a little slower,

I promise I follow with my limp.

Yes, out of the boat if I have to,

Into the courts of judging kings.

 

But unlike Peter I won’t announce a thing;

I’ll just whisper my handicap devotion to You

And keep Your thorn-crown and spikemarks

In view.

 

Mark the path for my slow resolve,

Leave Your scent so I know I can find the

Love that never lets me go.