O Peter, Peter

Happy Easter, everybody! (This is more of a Good Friday poem, but, eh.)

O Peter, Peter

Originally written March 31, 2019

O Peter, Peter, why do you now weep?
You know your master’s going to be condemned.
And you, who swore you’d be there to the end
Are sulking here instead. Why do you creep
Among the servants of the great high priest
Instead of standing at your Rabbi’s side?
You claimed you’d die there with Him, yet you hide—
And does the taste of food from last night’s feast
Turn ashen in your mouth? The bread He broke
And called His body, and the cope you shared—
You started boasting. Now, your pride laid bare,
You war this long night’s darkness like a cloak.
O Peter, grieve your failure, grieve your loss—
Then put down grief to take up your own cross.

Photo by Cristiano Melo on Unsplash

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