Palm Sunday Poem by Barry Blander

Subdued voices in prayer softly humming
Tremulous fingers on string of harp gently strumming
Children, imbued with the wan moonlight scatter and strew
Branches of leafy palm along the road, chanting:
'Hosanna, Hosanna in the Highest, ' in praise of Jesus, the King
Adorned in glistening white, straddled meekly upon a colt,
His Holy Face set like flint; saints listening
To rolling thunder; behold a searing lightning bolt.
Earth and Heaven can be seen rising in the constellations
Whirling in His Heavy-Lidded Eyes: To Jerusalem, Jerusalem
The pearl and queen of nations; Holy city set on the hills
Is His virgin bride; soon His precious, saving Blood
Will fall in great red drops to the earth
And redeem all Noah's children from the time of the flood.
Come, let us join the Holy Angels in perfecting praise
To the Father forever for His Only Begotten Son's Virgin birth;
The Son of God whom the Father himself from the dead would raise.