Poet’s Page ~ March 2009

Another season of Lent has begun… another time of preparation for the heartbreak of Good Friday and the wonder of Easter. For many of us these days are little more than rituals repeated each year. For some of us these days are almost like reliving something we remember from long ago. A few years ago I had the privilege of going to the Holy Land. Each place we visited was special in its own way, but the land was what spoke to me. Walking where Jesus walked was powerful beyond what I expected it to be. I have written poems about several of these places. The Mount of Olives was one of them.

Mount of Olives

Standing under timeless trees,
I gather a handful of olives,
fallen to the ground.

Scenes from ancient stories come to my mind.
With only a little imagination, I can see him
as he came to this place… alone,
away from the sight of the crowd,
to rest and pray.

Perhaps he heard the gentle breeze whisper
like the voice of the One he
worshipped, adored, obeyed.
Perhaps he leaned against a tree
and let its strength and ageless wisdom
seep into his bones.

Standing where he may have stood,
I feel myself touched by his spirit and
I am moved to weeping.

As tourists in that holy land,
we walked in many places declared by tradition
to be sites of gospel beginnings.
And as compelling as they often were,
none held the presence that this one held for me.

Standing under timeless trees,
I gather a handful of olives and put them in my pocket.

I have them still.

jbm