by Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
when You said
please come sit with Me
were You showing us how
each of us ought to ask for help
when stuck before the plow
that evil uses to destroy the crop that You have made
or to re-seed a lonely spot where hides the Sonless shade
I think
when hurting can't be stopped
when terrors overwhelm
I'll just sit here
it comes despite who's standing at the helm
I've asked
I've called
I've written
taken medication
slept
and yet it all
(whatever)
still knocks me about, inept
but there You were
You knew
from when the apple got so used
that mob would come
led by that one
who acted so confused
the evil – most
that anyone has ever willing done
and waited all along for that
to kill Your Father's Son
You sat at last
and asked
Your special friends
for help they could
and all they did
was fall asleep
and run, You said they should
I will not run
by Your grace
here
I'm with Your pain and mine
and I will hold Your hands
follow Your will until the time
when You return in clouds of glory
throwing shades away
and end what will be pointless pain
on that first Son shine day