The Oil Press.
09/04/19
Cries from the garden of the oil press.
A psalm. Of Ephraim.
LORD why can I do nothing right?
For my mistakes have become the pupils of my eyes
And my flaws are irremovable watermarks on all of my mirrors.
LORD why can I do nothing right?
Is it I holding back Your will,
Is it I at fault,
Is it I not feeling how You feel?
LORD why can I do nothing right?
My frustrations are alight all through the night
They are aloud all through the day
They are high and lifted just like a kite
That won’t come down
They just won’t come down
These frustrations are a ferocious sound
They are never ending and abound
In my throat they are rigid nouns;
I am tired
I am seasick
Take me off of these waters
Bring me ashore from these waters
My toes yearn for solid ground
My head beats for air all around
My body is failing me!
O LORD my God why am I so down?
O LORD my God where art thou in my darkest hour?
O LORD my God when will you fix my frown?
Put an end to this tussle of my organs
Pull the end to the flight of this dark kite
Push this darkness away from I and
Lead me to our garden in haste
Bring me to our chambers at once
Because Your face
Is all I need in this chase
Because Your face
Is my sustenance in this race.
For I am a man limp without You
You are my rod in the day
And my pillow at dusk.
I am in perpetual need of You
For You have asked for all of me
To be all dependent upon You
So I have given you all of myself
Just as You gave me all of Yourself...
Wholly and all for me.
E.K
“And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”
Luke 22:44
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Picture and sculpture by Angela Johnson ajscultpures.com