Palm Sunday

See your king. He comes
Humble, on a donkey.
 
See your king, triumphant, strong,
Humble, on a donkey.
 
See your king; the people cry:
Hosannah! Save us, blessed one!
 
See your king; not even rocks
Can stay silent as he rides.
 
See your king; he rides towards
A weeping garden, a betrayer’s kiss.
 
See your king; he washes feet,
Knelt before his betrayer’s feet.
 
See your king; he looks in eyes
And says, “What you must do, do now.”
 
See your king; he wrestles with
The desert’s demons as he kneels.
 
See your king. “Yet not my will
But Yours be done,” he bleeds and cries.
 
See your king; he puts down swords
And heals his captor’s wounded ears.
 
See your king; he limps towards
The hill where he will be accursed.
 
See your king; he cries out loud
On Caesar’s instrument of shame.
 
See your king; he bleeds and bleeds
And writhes to breathe and cries his last.
 
See your king; the rocks cry out.
Hosannah, save…Hosannah, save…
 
See your king, in death’s deep tomb.
The stone that was rejected sings…

2 thoughts on “Palm Sunday

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