I beg him now.

And what of choosing the better part?
Here it means nothing.

This has been my life's persistent scream,
demand for one thing.
 

   I plead my case...

People chasing after you..
They slow down for the drive-by
arm themselves with evidence,
then draw their unwieldy swords,
reckless with their newfound truth
and hammer, hammer away
with all their trite reasons why
one must get up, try, try, try.

   And more insistent:

When you sent them two by two
and taught us the Law of Love
did you know one thing only:
that I would be so lonely?
When you broke the bread in two,
dipped it in the blood-red wine,
did you see what was to come—
tit for tat, their zero-sum?
 

   He answers now.

And what of choosing the better part?
This is everything.

This has been my life's persistent dream,
release of one thing.


    Touching my face...

Begin at the end again:
He greeted me with a kiss,
Judas in the olive grove...
and Peter's sword—he so quick
to defend and to pretend.
Taste of vinegar sour,
your wide eyes piercing my soul,
all that was broken, made whole.

     I no more resistant...

Is this beginning an end?
For I have known traitor-friend
who by cover of night came
and here Peter mutiplied,
ever appearing beside,
still unwieldy with his sword.
Here they call you Savior, Lord;
Love's one truth tattered, ignored.
 

    I ask him now:

What remains? To choose again?
To live, to breathe, to dance and sing?
What is not taken? Love's lighted gleam?
The two as one thing?


    He smiles and speaks.

All that remains is to begin again—
your heart's offering,
what's freely given: radiant beam,
three in one, life's ring.