Running Forward To The Garden

I am believing now.

witness me, in believing.
these are tears of belief
and stained blood of belief
and fear standing
fear of soldiers
Pilate's men perhaps.

witness me.

John.

John.

I am believing now, do you see?
ah. what is it John,
that all miracles must
deny themselves
first bathed in our
own despair
see my hands
John they shake in belief.
look at my eyes they are no longer mine
my face is not mine
but tracts upon alleys and roadways
I am as multifaceted as promise.

I am believing john.

would He have?

would He have?

the people here jeer and
their stones are stones of belief.
our belief. fall upon my knees
John to show belief
but not.
not. my hands are wet.
tears have learned to stain
unless it turns to blood and
where. would. I. be. then.

John?

John.

I know His name!
I know His name!

is that not enough now?
oh if martyrdom came
with that much promise
as we have offered here John. and off.
this debacle of belief and
does it return to that in the end does it?

How many martyrs. He. He. I loved Him as well as any His name now glued and nailed upon my worn and useless lips as any cross as any thorns let them come! I shall…

the garden?
the garden?
Why now. Why. He is gone and that is one remaining puzzle of my belief.

John.
Do not break my heart further.

I believe. I believe