Only If They Are Sorry

The sky was darkening
The hostile crowd motionless
The Good News suspended in shame
The insults
The friends gone a-running.
And He looked skyward
And prayed
Father forgive the ones
Who get my message
Who plumb the parables
Who are truly sorry
Like this thief up here
My Mother and John down there.
But the rest
I leave to the righteous sword.
They are not on my plate.’
Is that what He said?
What He thought?
How He loved?
How He perceived redemption?
Forgiveness?
Not bloody likely!
No He always had
Insight to look beyond
Here and now.
To see the birthing
Of new brothers, new sisters.
Many in that leering, jeering
Drueling crowd.
And far beyond.
“Father forgive THEM for
They know not what they do.”
And where are we
When the hurts come?

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