I denied the Lord

and pounding from down deep

the hope I’ve been asleep,

and, waking, find I’ve never said a word.

The words just tumbled out my mouth (again)

Why can’t they take a hint?

The turncoat clots that hang on tight

and talk and trick and trip

Wherever Je…the Rabbi goes

They won’t shut up!

And I denied the Lord.

And to a servant maid!

And yes I was afraid,

like terror unexplored.

I’m prepared for death, I said.

But not just here… like this.

Or not found out by cunning cheats

nor chatted out by village maids.

I’d die in in battle—sure

but never bound and beat

and now I stand with ringing ears

and look around,

vehement denials in the air,

that turn inquisitors away

and leave me standing free…

and feeling bound.

I denied the Lord

and yet He turns to see.

He looks outside…at me

a quiet grief outpoured  

And so I weep and turn aside

from living things

and feel my dredging up from deep


the gall of pride and lies and all

and yet

He looked at me.

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