Peter and I, a Good Friday Poem

After the garden-
the giving away
the giving up,
the ghastly truth  poured out,
words like threadbare sheets
could not cover the lies,
“I do not know him!”
 

Yet He Who Can be Known
returned for this one,
walking first in The Way
then across the waves,
wooing with words and
an outstretched hand,
covering the lies with a 
heavy cloak of red,
the once-and-for-all act
speaking louder than any
daily denial,
“You are The Rock,
let me build something
great in you.”

And so He begins,
overturning stones one at a time
handing them to me 
to lay at the cross, 
building an altar
of pebble truths, 
marking my freedom 
as we walk along The Way.

4 thoughts on “Peter and I, a Good Friday Poem

  1. Jody – Kel shared you over on her blog for Easter. It is so fun knowing that you both know each other. and I get to find your words one way or another. What a church he built upon that rock! This church. Us. Hallelujiah!

    Like

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