Poem
He Will Not Quench
From Matthew 11:1–6
Your mind begins to play strange tricks on you
when you've been living under lock and key.
The king-rebuking courage that you'd had
has disappeared. The shining clarity
you had beside the Jordan, standing there
with dripping hair, exclaiming to the throng,
"Behold the Lamb of God! This is God's Son!"
has dulled and blurred. Perhaps you'd got it wrong.
In turmoil though you are, you turn to him
and give him one last chance to show himself
the king you thought he was. And he, most kind
to smouldering wicks and bruised reeds, displays
his power in a way you cannot miss.
You meet your executioner at peace.
Cover image by Peter Chiykowski.