Holy Day

I gospel myself out the door,
toddler in tow, schedule awry,
trusting the carboot to have what I need,
trusting the grace that orchestrates the day

while, afluster, I stride across
traffic lights in petroleum-fueled step,
eager to evade the Good Friday appeal because,
this day as per others, I’ve no change to spare.

I gospel the fissures where the mind tends to fizzle,
the legacy of this morning’s early vigil,
my son keeping watch in Gethsemane while
my weak-willing flesh resisted the prayer.

I gospel my slack-hearted refusal of gospel.
Though Christ plays
in a thousand places, I
fragment my mind in a thousand spaces.
Calvary only is needed today.
Gospel me, here and always.

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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