Jesus didn’t procrastinate.
“May as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb,”
he murmured quietly to his friends
as he made his arrangements to take the city.
“We’ll use a colt, though;
don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”
Which wrong idea, Jesus?
There seems to be a rich array to choose from.
Which idea did the crowd get
as they stripped the trees of their lower branches
and cast their robes into the dust?
“I was there when he rode into town!”
they would later say to their friends,
forgetting to mention
that they were part of another crowd
later in the week.
What did they hope for;
were they expecting more miracles
from the radical rabbi?
And what did they get
for their glimpse at celebrity?
A man like themselves,
but one determined to follow
his divine parent’s strange path
of courageous defiance, reckless generosity,
and foolish love.
© Ken Rookes
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