three times he asked me–why’d it
have to be three? three times i had
sworn i didn’t know him, three times
i had cursed his name, and then
run away into the darkness like a
child trying to hide from the monsters
in the night. three times, and then
the rooster crow.
so he had to ask, didn’t he,
three times: peter. do you love me?
and i had to ask: do i? do i even
dare to presume such a thing?
and he kept on asking, do you love me?
you know i do. why do you keep asking?
what are you trying to do?
and he said, feed my sheep and follow me.
he gave me the chance to take up
my cross, like i could not, would not
and so i have carried it,
all the way to this roman hill,
and i too will rise again.