Thank you so much dear friends Keith and Lynsey for the compliments on the Web site and the poem. And Carlos — I have lived in Las Vegas NM twice in my life. I really appreciate your response to my poem.
Since we are in the Lenten season, I'll be posting some items to incite your thinking about the suffering and death of our Savior. Here is the first in this series:
When he had finished praying, Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron Valley. On the other side was an olive grove, and he and his disciples went into it.”–John 18:10
The Conduit
In the temple now they are killing the lambs. There
Two hundred and seventy thousand will die. The air
Of Jerusalem has been filled with their bleating
All day, as red-sleeved priests perform their duty of meting
Out death. One by one, white throats are slit.
The temple has the hot, moist smell of blood about it.
A conduit drains from the great brass altar down
To the brook Kidron.
But in the dusk-light of this Thursday, the leaves
Of the olive trees tremble as the wind heaves
And lunges into them. Men approach the blood-swollen creek
And cross this bridge, hurrying toward the rest they seek.
Why has this lone Man stooped at the Kidron before He crosses,
His finger just touching the red water, and pauses,
Pauses?
(c) Latayne C. Scott
