Saturday Extra: Father, Forgive Them

It’s a gasp, a cry, a whispering on the breath of death.
It comes down the ages, seeping into life’s crevices…
For the old, the young, the weak and the strong;
The dedicated the confused, the bitter, the ambivalent;
The confused, the bitter, the disappointed, the arrogant;
The loyal, the angry, the loving, the frustrated.
I need it, we need it, every single thing has need of it.
Barely uttered at the time, it quickly grew beyond all expectation,
Rattled around a resurrection tomb,
And came burrowing out of a life-spattered garden.
A buoyant, liberating call, pouring down the corridors of being,
Across the dimensions and landing yet again, today,
On our doorsteps, kitchen tables, phone screens and pavements.
‘Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.’

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