The Maundy Thursday - Poem by Akhtar Jawad
The basic need of the dove that is sick,
Who has been injured and whose feet are bleeding,
And I see blood on her soft silky wings,
Can’t we stop the blood?
See the grip of her nibs!
The branch of olive,
Has not fallen on the earth!
She is still holding it,
She will not die,
She will survive,
It’s a Maundy Thursday,
We have arranged a super for her,
Her feet will be washed,
She will be all right,
And we shall see her flying,
Once again in the sun,
Of a lovely Sunday!
(' Near the end of the Last Supper, after Judas had departed, Christ said to His disciples, 'A new commandment I give unto you: That you love one another, as I have loved you, that you also love one another.')
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