The Jacobian Struggle: A Poem

He is the All-knowing, He sees everything coming
But this time, Common Sense is also justified by her children
It’s a night like none before, embedded with as much
that escorts the very moment of a discovery

Under a tree lie three, gallantly flunking the much
anticipated practicals, while
Ahead, a rock beckons, luring His sympathetically
aching knees with its ample space
The moment is near, and He’s a Man, like the rest of us
His heart is filled with heaviness in its profundity
Each beat drawing Him ever closer to the Inevitable
The spirit is willing,
The body is weak,
The soul is wandering undecidedly

For the last time, the Master kneels,
with a macabre mix of
desperation and depression, squeezing
blood from His pores after all the sweat is gone
Instead of oil, His Own Soul is pressed at Gethsemane,
broken and crushed, albeit by His permission

Like a blast from the past, it comes to Him:
the prince initially earmarked to be a supplanter,
who changes his lot by prevailing over The Father

Tough times never last, they first come before the crown
Circumstances and challenges are not forever,
the diamonds at the end of the gloomy tunnel of Despair are

Somewhere, somehow, something clicks!
Like a shining beacon of hope never before found,
the Messenger points out to Him
the ever present Grace He can always tap into

As a tactically-advantaged Field Marshall,
He rises, rejuvenated and renewed!

“Let’s go……..”


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