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I will be posting all the stations over Easter, with the first one here.

The Stations of The Cross - First Station

Jesus in agony in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Mark 14.32-36

Son of Man, alone in the wood,
weeping tears of blood, pressed out
like small red olives, drip by drip
into the cup of his resignation.
This Second Adam, born not of man
but of God and woman; his human
heart anguished and weak, while
nearby his disciples are still asleep.

“Abba, father, where are you now?
When I need you most, when I call
to you in prayer, can it be that you
no longer hear? I always had the
sense of you beside me, but now,
I can no longer see. Abba, Father
must I be pressed to drain the bitter
cup? Or can it yet be taken from me?

Must he then, as one so weak, be asked to
taste the pangs of bitter death?
Not yet the cross, but so much more:
the agony of doubt he never foresaw.
After bleak hours praying alone to
the Father, whose approval he seeks.
If death comes, he shan’t be found weak
so that all who follow shall be atoned.

The candle gutters, his faith burns low, as
he wonders why he has been left alone,
his Fathers absence felt deep in his bones.
But if the die is cast, and if time, like
sand is running fast through his hands;
he will pray for the strength to fulfil
what he knows to be his Fathers will,
although he seems to be hiding his face,

He is never alone, the Fathers love,
is not withdrawn, it rests upon his Son.
Insects sound their call; wind rustles the leaf’s;
the Angel Azrael watches from the trees, as
the breath of faith cools his tear-stained face,
he prays for the grace to face what will be.
His heart is calm, his grief is at an end,
he waits for the one, the enemy will send.

Images from Wikimedia Commons: Jörn Droemann.

© D G Moody 2023

Poetry by D G Moody