Fifth Week of Lent
I desire to do, but I fail to do:
rough wind tangles the sail,
the kernel hides in tough shell,
the poem spoils to doggerel.
I desire to do, but I fail to do,
true heart is veiled by lie.
New grace needs old self to die,
nailed on rough wood, crucified.
I desire to do, but I fail to do,
Easter seems far away;
nothing remains, save to pray
for a resurrection day.
