Sleepers

In this
my garden of Gethsemane
where I prayed

The agony
overtook me.

The foreseeing of
that which would come
the being of
the only Son,
the pain of one was multiplied
until the one cried out,
my god
my god
why?

Olives
stuffed with pimiento
a memento from the
mount.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.