Jesus Arrested
He spoke and they with torch and club did collapse
He stood man-God; brow bled in prayer this night.
The soldiers, servants repeat the Name despatched
Who’s he? All know; his Words through dark are sight
Jesus, Messiah, “I told you I Am he”
Was fresh seed well then in dirt dug down
For stumbled man beneath the olive tree
Of grief too glorious, of lit face and crown?
His friend’s kiss; where soon palms will turn by plan
The grounded step, stand back, oh see or flee!
To look so close at God, and not know the Man.
Empire and Jew holds breath, one word it may be
He loses none given, he will be seized
Buy sword: the Rock for King will learn to fight
Blade thuds, ear lifts as dirt, belief received?
They lead him bound to drink the cup in Might!
The Garden pressed and caught on back and knee
Cloak weave and under nail, Gethsemane
That night of torch, dark soil, plant light as day
Did tumble memory as brushed away
at barrack, court and wood post three?
Twig or bud, recall, you fell, you can be free
Did some who collapsed under olive leaves
carry sapling dirt, see God and believe?
It’s Finished.
His legs unbroken; pierced heart, crown, hand and heel.
The Gardener who knelt with towel the day before
With dust and feet, and friends. The Branch.
The Messiah, dead, then never dead more!
(Inspired in particular by John 18)
(Updated in 2026 to the newly edited version of the poem.)
© Dominic Graham 2026