The question, surely, is rhetorical;
shorthand for this psalm of ‘yet’ and ‘but’.
Did he not know that,
in the dregs of the bitter cup,
he would taste its full, prophetic dereliction?
What is
the chill
that spreads through his veins,
the weight
that dislocates his joints,
the contagion
that coats his tongue
and blots him out?
Why has God, his God, forsaken him?
© Marion Adams 2016
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