a prayer for forgiveness
Jesus,
all you asked of them
that day in the garden
was that they’d stay awake;
watch and pray.
it’s hard for me to imagine
how they could have tumbled into sleep
right there in the dirt.
were they really that unaware
of the tension enveloping
their whole world?
were they so utterly exhausted
they couldn’t keep their eyes open
even at your request?
three times?
then again,
what do you ask of me?
am I following your
(repeated!) instructions,
keeping watch while the dark clouds
gather above us,
praying the way through
the darkness ahead?
or do I, too,
let the fatigues of the world
rule me?
do I make myself
comfortable under a sheltering tree, meaning
just to ride out the coming storm
(but willing to sleep through it instead)?
how many reminders must
you give me?
forgive me, Lord,
for all the many ways
I manage
to be asleep.
A Moving Yarn 