who knew deep anxiety,
the desire for the cup to be taken away,
your sweat dropping onto the clay of earth like blood,
be with those who suffer at this time
from anxiety, the fear of their world
running out of control.The facts alone
fan the embers of anxiety
in all of us: the grim daily numbers,
the fear of falling ill, of facing our end.
In our loneliest darkness,
in the night of our Gethsemane,
may we find you there.