Here I am, ready to be tested.
A burnt offering, the lamb before the lamb.
Bound and with a knife to my throat,
but that is all still to come.

Three days climb.
Three days of your committing
and wavering. Twisting the knife in
over and over.

Silent steps.
Smelling my anointed hair.
Promises are twisting the knife in
the theatre of mind.

Are my eyes
trusting or suspecting you?
Faithful you, twisting the knife in,
give your throat for mine.

A paltry substitute, your life of obedience,
lodestar of nations with his blade drawn
committed to murder.
Twisting the knife in
to your only son.