(Historical Note:  "Gethsemane" is literally a crude "olive press" used during the time of Jesus.  The Garden of Gethsemane was simply the garden place at the foot of the Mount of Olives where the gethsemane was kept/used.  A gethsemane was little more than two large flat rocks, with ropes or twine holding one up above the other. After olives were spread out over the surface of the lower rock, the upper rock was slowly lowered down on top of the olives, crushing them, squeezing the olive oil gently from them out along the edges of the pressing rock faces.)
 

My knees
have taken root
in the ready furrows
of the mountain base garden's
promise of hope.

My eyes
are fixed firm
on the shiny prize
of the high mountain top's
gift of salvation.

But my heart
remains on the loose, 
scrambling,
hard pressed to decide, 
somewhere in between.

My Gethsemane.

Like a basket of olives
I am smoothed out,
completely covering the surface
of a big flat rock
resting firmly on the ground,

while another big flat rock
is slowly lowered down,
hovering above the ripened batch,
barely bursting its tenuous skins,
precious oil, drop by drop,

but not quite crushed
not yet spilling over the sides
no feverish need to catch the eminent flood,
but still, most certainly
between a rock
and a hard place.

My Gethsemane.

Things I want to do
to be,
things you want me to do
for thee,
plans just for me.

My Gethsemane.

Strengthen me, 
oh angel from heaven,
wipe the bloody sweat 
from my brow,
hold me now.

My Gethsemane.

If it is not possible
for this to pass me by,
if this cup,
I must drink
Who am I?

My Gethsemane.

Not my will
but thine
be done.