"In Gethsemane the holiest of all petitioners prayed three times that a certain cup might pass from Him. It did not." C.S.Lewis.

An old olive press, rusting at the bottom of a sandy garden
in this occupied territory.
There's a man lying prostrate,
on the soil.

He's murmuring.
something about a weight, a burden, something.
We disciples could not hear clearly,
what with all the muffled explosions
gunfire and the sirens of the IDF. 

 This man, this man, he screamed out:
‘NOT AS I WILL BUT AS YOU WILL FATHER!’.
but there was no other man there, no father, nothing.
Was this man drunk?
I do not think so.
But he may have drunk some wine
sometime.
during a lull in the battle. 

Maybe he'd heard the cock crow
three times.
This was all faraway but I remember it well.
Strangely enough it was sunset, not sunrise.
and all the roosters had been eaten, long ago
what with the siege and the starvation and whatnot.
I don't know....