Peter

Amber and gold fingers flicking warm embers into the night air.

Gathered after dusk’s hours they sit and stare at he.

Sadness and confusion filling his tired face.

I ask, why are you here, warming in this place.

Looking afraid, tears filling raw eyes his words only try.

You were with him,

and the others another says stirring the fire.

“Not, no, not me,” he stammers,

cussing at us three.

For a time he grumbles, then into the night stumbles.

Along a path, time worn his sandals scrape, and are torn.

Stopping again, beneath the walls lights, fire pulls him in.

You, calls the centurion, you were with those men.

Spitting, cursing he called for a cup,

“give me bitters, not sweet.”

“It was not me at that mans feet,”

souring these words go from his lips.

Off, stumbling he slinks into the predawn night.

Along a garden path he stands with a few other men.

Voices dogging his flight call again to his fright.

“You are a follower, of he who was crucified, with him, you I did see.”

“Liar,” screams from his lips,

as nights stillness fills with a roosters call.

Sobbing, falling to his knees before us all.

Beside him on my knees his name I call.

“Simon, Peter, I was there too.”

Wracked with grief he recalls, “my master told me,

thrice I’d deny him before the cock crowed.”

Crying, then praying as dawn this first day came.

Discussing his directions for us, as sin his life claimed.

Not of the twelve, devoted I follow.

Gathering, feeding sharing for these I’m daring.

Gone from us, even In day,

darkness our hearts fill with distrust.

Together a few remain, Peter,

wracked with sorrow, tears his heart claim.

Night comes again all to soon.

Bringing not relief,

but fears we’ll be arrested too.

Praying, crying, believing our world is dying.

Word on the third day comes.

These women, the grave they claim is undone.

None but angels there stood, risen they proclaimed, few understood.

Risen is he, crucified, the grave denied.

Risen, free from sin, to walk again.

“Jesus,” Peter, “Christ is risen to begin.”

He knows your heart, he has mine as well.

Will you on this Easter, others willingly tell?

He is risen, he is risen, defeated sin.

WAManning©2016

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s