Go and Tell Peter
by Gwendolyn Eby
Thru morning fog I stumble-run,
like a Peter—not a John
and panting, find I am outrun.
over with grieving and blame,
down with sorrow and shame
of that night’s denial . . .
I, who failed, when put on trial.
The best of intentions struggle and strain
the earnest efforts to attain!
Of little use
my hurried striving—
Is there still a place in His heart
of His own His glory to see?
to deserve His grace,
the one who tried,
the race to him whom He loved best?
“Go and tell Peter”—
Ah! Light notes open to rising melody
of hope and love for despairing humanity
who for the losing,
find grace, not defeat;
who for failure
find beauty more complete.
Here lurid darkness melts to golden white.
Maybe still stumbling, maybe still falling—
toward the Light.
Dear readers, the impromptu poem we published on Good Friday inspired the one we published yesterday. We decided to ask for special submissions for Easter Sunday as well, and received not one but an abundance, many of them from poets we’ve not previously published. We love the way words lead to words, and truth to truth, and grace to grace.
The inspiration for several of the poems was the thought of the Sunday after Sabbath as an Eighth day as well as a First day, for an image of overlapping, infinite beginning. We plan to publish one of your poems each day of this coming week, for an eight-poem series ending next Sunday, which happens to be the day that many churches in the East celebrate their Easter. —the Curator staff
Gwendolyn Eby lives in Berks County, PA. Her favorite words are “grace,” “light,” and “beauty.”