Gethsemane Lament
Sunday, May 22, 2011 by the BCth
Here in the garden of my sorrow
I gather into heavy hands
A mute bouquet of bitter herbs
And brew myself a bitter cup
To taste my anguish, hot at first
Then cold, but bitter to the end.
Through glasses dark, I see but dimly
Knowing not how else in pain
To meet this world, my fallen self
In case of tears I would fain conceal
That only heaven's rain can heal
Till then I hold the sun at bay.
Tell me, my friend, and do not spare
Your wisdom, though I shall resist
As long as my heart cries for sin
Enchained by locks self-made, by grief
By madness threatening to break
But for that thinnest thread of faith –
What solace is there to be had
When all is darkling grey within
And mercy hidden from my sight?
Only time, perhaps, can mend
What now seems hopelessly entrenched
The folly of forgetfulness
And strength of will made naught
Before a tapestry of death and lies.
Oh, how I long for clarity
The homeland song that angels sing
The peace that knows all shall be well
Once battles fought and war is won
But by what agency shall it be done
I ask you, and fall silent now
Here in the garden of my never-ending sorrow.
Ahhh, this is very good. Thank you for sharing these words from the heart.
Z
Gracias, kiitos, and thank you, brother Zoner. Your words make me glad I took the plunge.
In love,
William
beyond right and wrong,
there is a field.
i feel you there...
thank you
Hello Wiulliam:
Whom is tending the garden?
Best wishes,
Mike
Thank you, friends. Sorry for the delay... I'm just now getting myself back on track after a longer-than-usual depressive phase.
godward,
I've recently been through the opposite place, where there's nothing but judgment. Guess which one feels like drowning, and which one is like a breath of fresh air? I have been making some attempts to breathe today...
Stranger,
We both know it's me. It's just hard to accept that responsibility when one is trapped within that mindset of crushing misery. ;)
Pulling out of the swamp, one step at a time,
William
Hello Willaim:
You have my best wishes for whatever you do. I know it's not easy to pick oneself up when one is in the heavy dark shit, but I have been there and it can be done.
My best wishes,
Mike
Your poetry is an inspiration to me, both in darkness, and light. There is a duality of flow. in peace, m.e.
Thank you, fellows. Things are looking up.