The Garden
I don’t know how much dust was on the leaves, in the air
As darkness filtered out what light remained—
Tree trunks, boulders steeping into night,
Plant scent slightly bitter in the coolness—
But I imagine the birds sifting down onto solidness
As the Son of God, with no place to lay his head,
Went on a ways and knelt to pray.
And this one, capable of such flight,
Was astonished by the heaviness of sin:
A deepest loneliness, thickest agony.
All our lives in his blood-flecked hands,
And my life a part of his grief.
About the Author
Frederick Mark Gedicks is Professor of Law, Brigham Young University Law School. The author is grateful to Matthew Todd for research assistance. This essay is based on a talk given as part of the “Spirit of the Law” lecture series at the Law School and owes much to Milner Ball’s discussion of the Gospel of John in Called by Stories: Biblical Sagas and Their Challenge for Law (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2000), 109–45.