Gethsemane

Shanelle Galloway

Gethsemane of gnarled trunks

bearing history of sorrow
twisted branches bowing down
in solemn, silent obeisance.

Gethsemane, reveal your secrets

tell of that night you witnessed
resonate your memory
of that ominous night, Gethsemane.

Where He sook refuge in your Garden

away from eyes too frail to see Him
and from hearts not yet full-opened,
house His burdens in your bosom.

Did you shudder in the Darkness

while He tread forlorn and fraught
with sorrow, all alone
and fraught with sorrow?

Did you weep while He bled,

as agonizing sweat He dripped
writhing in your bosom
as the whole earth pressed upon Him.

Did you wonder, struck in awe,

when the angel had descended,
His only comfort in this pain,
Heaven-sent, but hardly numbing?

Did you watch in sickened sadness

as they dragged Him,
sold for tarnished silver shekels
and a single traitor’s kiss?

Gethsemane, Gethsemane,
did you know, as you looked on
that He would die alone,
tortured, but unbroken?

Gethsemane reveal your secrets

tell of that night you witnessed
resonate your memory
of that ominous night, Gethsemane.