Thursday, April 19, 2012

Palm Sunday


Ah yes, Palm Sunday—
All the good gentiles
Can finally dust off their white shoes
And wear them next week,
For the first Sunday,
After the full moon,
After the equinox.

Til then, they’ll fuss,
And split semantic hairs
Over whether to call them
“Resurrection” eggs,
 Or Easter ones,
Knowing full well the tradition flows
Straight from the ritual river
Ancient as the petulant goddess, Ishtar, herself.

Oh well.
How can I blame them?
For even though I know, at least,
What it is that I lean forward to worship:
The great cycles and spirit of Love and Life,
The vernal time is my favorite, too.

The blades of green striking up in a shoot,
The tiniest of blossoms, sunning together,
Spreading forth their honeyed glow,
The breeze that feels,
Not so much that it is blowing,
But that it is being pulled by my face
On the way to somewhere else.

Yes! All these make me want to fall deeply in love
Again.

So, this my church—
This my halcyon—
This circle of Living Reality
Is where I ponder Life Anew.

-jenn long

1 comment:

ARTHUR-NJUGUNA said...

Its a quite strong and a wonderful read.