Spring Gardening

Gethsemane Gardens


He could have stayed away from the garden

And its soul searching agony,

He could have left,

Closing the gate firmly behind him.

Instead, His knees imprinted rock

Olive trees rustled their future plans

Blood sweat watered white lilies

And in the depths of His soul He heard them,

He smelled them


He planted the assurance

Of future gardens,

And sits by an open gate.

Beckoning us to enter.


A Tomb in a Garden


Someone moves in the tomb,

The wind picks up the folds of a robe and smooths them

Like a hand on a fevered forehead.

Mary feels the fever of anguish

The weight of despair heavier than the stone

Rolled away from the tomb.

Darkness forms a doorway question mark,

Where is he? She has to find him.

Someone moves in the tomb!

She sees a misty outline in the doorway The gardener!

He would know the answer.

She pleads, “If you have taken him away, tell me where he is, And I will take him with me.”

The wind outlines the man’s beard against his face.

Knowing smooths away her anguish leaving outlines of hope.

“Mary.” His voice rings with love and eternity.

“Master!” Her voice . rings with love and eternity



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