http://thecatholiccatalogue.com/feast-of-st-james/
First the garden.
And this first betrayal:
friends asleep
when most needed; then –
another
in the wings, a kiss
at the ready; a sword,
the sternness of armies
come to slay a spotless lamb.
O Christ –
I have not even a sword;
only betrayers’ kisses
heaped with pride.
Why must You bleed, even now?
When legions of angels could
take You away?
Why must You take the kiss of death
as we betray our Lamb?
The Consolations of Writing 