IN THE GARDEN
(for Boris Pasternak
in memory)

In the Gethsemane garden
sweating blood red
as a pomegranate and grape
those seeking pardon
as only angels are aware
where spirits dwell
and men try to escape
his shaped words
scattered from what He said
amid the living and the dead
in forgiveness before
the dread of their own Hell
for no bells are heard
among the mourning doves
and sky of birds
Jesus is snatched and arrested
and taken from us
to be put on trial
and hung on a trees cross
yet gladiators appear
on contested Roman fields
daring along gymnasiums
before the flesh yields
to the mad pagan crowds,
instead the Messiah
knows some day
a forum of senators will bow,
proud statesmen will cower
as priests, savants and kings
in their high towers
by eagles wings,
as in a poet's memory
of Tiresias in prophecy
life summons a meeting
with Odysseus in Hell
from an underworld journey
of demons and spirits
here a legendary carpenter
has a humble man's power
tells us to bless the poor,
among rebels, outcasts
or loving whores
here not among the clever
but serious servants
of the Lord's words
as good gospel news is heard
in every neighborhood
of the ancient world
for Jews and Gentiles
needing to be assured.