This week’s #preparingforSundaywithpoetry perhaps bears more relation to the stories of Jesus’ original temptation than to his twin command to Peter to, “Get behind me, Satan!” But between those threads, and the idea that one could follow Jesus, taking up the cross but not tasting death? – that is where this poem caught me today. I hope it’s still useful to your prayer and preparation for Sunday’s strange interpretation of what is good news.
Savour
Some will not taste death; others
lick it like salt from their skin,
the ones with eyes like atlases.
Flashback to the desert, sand
gritted between teeth and palate,
tongue coated with a sapour that
no vinegar will slake, spitting
drily at the devil, “Go to hell!”
rising like acid with the effort.
Shadows fall crosswise, shifting
and lengthening with the tide
of the sun. In their wings,
angels and wild beasts hover,
patient for the suffering of the saviour.
over the water 