You Withdrew

 You Withdrew

(“Jesus said to Peter the third time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love Me?’ Peter felt bad because Jesus asked him the third time, ‘Do you love Me?’” John 21:17a)

Do not fear these tears, these tears,
do not fear
these tears.

You knew I would cry them. You knew, you knew.
You knew the moment you saw me
crumble on the gravel,
scrape my knees on the gravel,
bloody my face with red anguish
on the pavement of your sorrows,
bloody my face like a drunken boxer
taken down for the third and last time.

No! I do not want to sing.
I’ve forgotten how to pray.
I would write my words again
but no matter what I say
guilt and fear mix with undeniable affection
until they become lost, a distorted reflection
of the language of my heart.

You withdrew, appearing once to my delight.
You withdrew and my tears raced to the edges of my chin
fearing never to hear from you again.
It would only be right,
surely be right,
I had proved my self a traitor three
too many times.

I would call you once, I would call you twice,
but I fear you would not answer.
I would call you three times, but my love
(I would call) has become rancid.
I am sure you will block me, unfriend me, never invite me
to follow or sit at your feet again.
Just a simple breakfast on the beach would do.

“[Peter] answered Jesus, ‘Lord, You know everything. You know I love You.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed My sheep.’” John 21:17b

But my love is incorrigible as uncertain as summer dew.
But my love, who would I follow, so lazy with my follow-through.
(But my love) is the only answer (to my love) who three times soothes
me to his side again.