This poem was written a couple of weeks ago and written in such a way that contained some internal rhyming within each line. But, while writing this blog, upon reflection, I discovered that I wasn't happy with some of the forced lines in order to achieve those extra rhymes. So, I rewrote much of it between yesterday and today. The final verse was left alone from the original, leaving those internal rhymes intact.
I was thinking about Peter having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day on the day before Jesus was crucified. After his friend had died, the only things that Peter was left with were his words and actions of that day.
I can't imagine what he was thinking when he ran and saw the empty tomb. But, it is interesting what the angel told the women at the tomb, regarding Peter:
Now go and tell his disciples, including Peter, that Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you before he died.
How wonderful it is to have a chance of redemption!
Peter, Simon Peter — how was Seder with your friend?
I'd heard you promised to protect him to the very end.
Then, when he took a servant's role to wash your feet, you said,
Lord, do not merely wash my feet, but wash my hands and head!
Peter, Simon Peter — it appears you've been asleep.
Did not your friend ask, Watch with me, my soul is crushed with grief?
Again, I saw him wake you so that you could watch and pray;
with tears of blood he bore his pain alone near where you lay.
Peter, Simon Peter — rise! Get up, and grab your sword!
Remember when you said tonight that you'd defend your Lord?
Ignore that you're outnumbered — overmatched with clubs and spears.
Select a target — one that's weak, and aim between the ears!
Peter, Simon Peter — get yourself away from there!
Why, you've denied you ever met your friend — I heard you swear.
You lied again and then once more — then saw your friend and froze.
Tonight, you will deny me thrice before the rooster crows.
Peter, Simon Peter — I can see you're filled with gloom.
I heard you heard the news and ran to find his empty tomb.
Now, more confused than ever, with uncertainty you grope;
your broken heart since Jesus' death just caught a ray of hope.
Peter, Simon Peter — cast your net into the sea;
then bring it up and hold it fast for heavy will it be.
No longer will you troll the deep — your friend is on the shore.
He beckons, Feed my lambs and sheep, and love me evermore.
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