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…

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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