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by Robert Hawkins © 2022

There's one in our midst who will see me betrayed.
O Lord, is it me? Is it me?
You'll all run away and be greatly afraid.
O Jesus, that never could be!

​I go to my Father to be glorified,
to ready the places you'll stay;
my Father has rooms where we all can abide.
Lord, how since we don't know the way?

I'd never abandon nor leave you behind;
I'll leave you the Spirit of truth.
My Father's the gardener, I'm the true vine,
he prunes branches bearing no fruit.

I tell you the truth, your great anguish and grief
will suddenly turn into joy;
like birth pains that mothers have turn to relief
when holding their new girl or boy.

My soul's crushed with grief and my heart is distressed;
stand watch, as I pray over there.
Oh, Simon, you're sleeping along with the rest.
Temptation was greater than prayer.

The spirit is willing, the body is weak.
Let's go, my betrayer is here.
Friend, do what you've come for. For whom do you seek?
Why come, armed with club, sword and spear?

Are you a disciple of Jesus — or spy?
I don't know why you'd think that is.
Your accent deceives you! You're with him, don't lie!
I never would be one of his!

Denying me not only one time — but thrice.
I'd give you my life, Lord, I swear!
Today you will be with me in paradise.
Remember me, Lord, when you're there.

This poem won first place for the April 2022 poetry contest

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