The First Sorrowful Mystery: The Agony in the Garden

Shortly before his death, Jesus goes to the garden to pray for grace and strength. He tells his disciples "Watch and Pray" Jesus enters into prayer so deeply that his sweat is as drops of blood mixing on the ground with his tears. Even in the great darknss and desolation, he finds strength to say: "Let this cup pass before me. But not my will, but as you will it Father."

Jesus tells us as he told his disciples "Watch and Pray". It sounds like a pretty simple task, but it's hard. In the midst of the darkness and despair, Jesus found strength and grace in prayer to his Father. In our darkest times, we can also call on our Father in heaven to sustain us. Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane was as the Garden of Eden after the sin of Adam and Eve. Blood was used to cover sin and wash it away. The blood, sweat and tears in the garden are a reminder of our fallen state as well as an example of the Eucharist with blood and water.

We Pray: Jesus, help us to remember that whatever we go through in life, even and especially in our darkest times, remind us of the strength and grace we receive from our Heavenly Father. Help us also remember of your great love for us in your suffering and agony. Even when we fail, when we sin, when we turn away, you are with us. You love us, you forgive us, you run out to us and take us back. You counted up the cost and we are worth it. It cost everything and you paid the price so we wouldn't have to. Nothing we could ever do could amount to what you gave The best I can do is offer my life for you and my neighbor and try to die to myself daily. I am truly and eternally grateful, for by your amazing grace, I have the opportunity to be with you for all eternity. Thank you Jesus!

I've made this drive 500 times
Often distracted by the finished work day
Or the overcast that's headed towards Beverly Road. 
I'm trying to make it over the tracks again before the next cargo shipment passes through. 
Two things are absolute 
You will be there eagerly awaiting to plant a *****-drenched peck on my lips
And I will down a bottle of wine within the next two hours. 
It never was about the yellow house
Or the crying puppy in the back yard
or the way the wood floors creaked when you woke up early and snuck out for your first cigarette. 
Hurricane season came and went, still Beverly Road remained untainted 
But the passion that pumped through me got carried away in all that rain and yellow was no longer my favorite color. 
After all, you can't make a house a home alone. 
If I had realized how badly the wind had beaten you down, maybe I'd still be sitting in the garage attempting to disguise our discontent
I went back Once
I was trying to sow myself together when I realized for the first time sorry isn't always enough
And there are words I can't cram back into my mouth. 
I admit I can turn into a tropical storm.
I picture you peacefully falling asleep to my thunder
I forget how badly I wanted to set the bedposts on fire with lightning strikes.

I'm just so tired of being so strong,
and the secret is that I really just want to break.

Devotion drowning in oblivion,
                 Hearts slice open a vein....

                           Cold essence
of what once beat for you....

i am so trapped inside myself.
there are words in my heart
and they try to leap out,
battling with the black hole of my person.
there is so much i want to say
so much love i want to share
but the fear won't let it escape.
even when the alcohol dissolves the barrier,
the fear is still too strong
and again the words are lost
before my mouth can form the shape of 'i love you'.
i am so in love with so many people;
each of them a planet within my solar system,
more beautiful than anything you could imagine.
i wish i could tell them how i felt,
how much they meant to me,
how they keep me alive.
but
as always
the words are lost.

An issue it has been for many a year,
A secret behind doors of which you often do not hear,
Within families and friends, workplaces the lot
To seek of this would not be a long shot.
It gets to us all through one channel or another,
Whether it your neighbour,friend,sister or brother,
Observe and you will see just how easy it can be,
A source, a connection you could get to in 3.
Little fear when it is felt it is required,
Over and over never seem to get tired,
A deeper need creates desperate measures,
Often leading to the sale of many treasures,
A family breakdown, withdrawal and depression,
It was only meant to be for the night of that one session,
It gets out of hand, you slip through the cracks and man oh man you wish for normal life back,
At the start, it was good, a trip like no other,
Now so deep you steal from your own mother,
Looks have changed, personality altered, an unknown individual who would have thought it?
Bruises and cuts, owed money and hideaways now a thing,
A strain to everyone's lives drugs do bring,
Your own person no longer, you thought of yourself as stronger,
Your life stolen, taken away if only that one time you had not strayed...

OUT OF SIGHT
( for Shyam )


A constellation
comes to rest

amongst the branches
of a young tree

plays with her leaves
for a little while

then when I turn
my head away

it rests
upon the ground

pretends to be a cobweb
stretched from hedge to hedge

and only in the very act
of my turning back

does it leap
into the sky

as if "nothing"
had happened

an owl gives a hoot
but no one is listening

not even the moon
asleep on a hill

a mile or so
away

the constellation clasped
upon the night

beautiful as a brooch
made out of time

the squeak squeak
of a bicycle wheel

that needs an oiling
as I cycle slowly slowly

around the bend
the tick tick of the spokes

and. . .
. . .out of sight.