He told me if I didn't have a sword
That I should sell my garment and go buy one
I did so, in obedience to my Lord
And I felt better with a weapon to rely on
And then they tried to take my Lord away
I gamely shook my shame and fear off
Stepped forward, drawing out my blade
I cut a soldiers ear off
I swelled with smug, aggressive pride
In the melee looked to Him for quick approval
But found He seemed to take the other side
Commanding me the bloody blade's removal
Why? Why put this brand new sword into its place?
Why then the urgency to go and buy it?
Confused, I watched Him heal the wounded face,
I felt the hush, the sudden ceasing of the riot.
I've thought a lot about it since He's gone
Those events have often been discussed,
It seems he wants me well prepared, to have my armor on,
But in the battle, He just wants my trust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem