05 abril 2012

This Night

This Night brings me close to You,
My truest, dearest friend.

It quiets my heart, and drops my gaze,
as I follow, forlorn,
the muddied footprints that led
to the Garden,
in the rain.


But first,
there was the Glow.

That last meal,
the very last night.
God with us, here at table,
on Earth.

And I savour a vision of that last dinner
You must have enjoyed.

With Your brothers:

The final traces of candlelight and cameraderie.
The warmth of bread broken, and wine shared.
The intimate revelations and last advice.

The quiet, the laughter, the Humanity.

And then:

The bewildered looks, the blind stares.
The whispered exchanges,
a sudden slamming of a door
as Judas left the circle, furious,
exposed at last:
rafters shaking as he flew forth.


And it was Night.

And it was cold. So forsaken.
Frozen and lonely, chilled to the bone.
Evil lurking in ghostly olive trees,
distant torches casting ominous shadows
that clawed forward, greedily pulling you in,

Royalty suddenly forgotten,
oh mere son... of Man.

Reed now broken, bright Candle
burnt out.

Broken by our humanity,
Broken for me.

Broken, this Night.

Paul Fleming
Barcelona, 5 April 2012

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