Poetry for Palm Sunday
will I lay my cloak before you,
when they arrest you on olive mountain,
or pull it tighter around me,
fading into the ranks of the deserters;
will I shout
‘Blessed is the one who comes
in the name of the Lord!’
when they parade you
before the authorities,
or will I tell any one – and every one – around me
I never met you in my life;
will I lay my palm branches at your feet,
as they march you to Calvary,
or use them to put more stripes
on your bloody back;
will I run behind you
when they carry you to the tomb,
or turn away
as the ashes of my hopes
are rubbed into the
wounds in my heart?