I have a bitterness that runs
Deep. when Jesus cursed
The fig tree, it
Gave nothing sweet.
No good fruit
No wine pours from
Me, not at all.
So I have been told.
I am comfortable with that.
It seems, however to me
He was cursed too.
Going to Golgatha
Stripped, striped
Beaten near to death.
You have to hit bottom
For a resurrection, for an
Attempt at salvation.
To rise, to ascend
To save, to understand.
I am comfortable with that
It makes sense to me.
Right now though
I am cursed, bitter
You were right my dear Amy,
What are patterns for?
r james sterzinger
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/just-before-jerusalem/
