Palm Sunday Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

These days not many can recall
A journey strewn with palms
Accompanied by shouts of joy
Hosannas, timbrels, psalms

They threw their garments and best robes
To soften his harsh goal
Ascending to Jerusalem
On a young colt, a foal

Nobody guessed the time was near
When our dear Lord would hang
Upon a rough-hewn wooden cross
By cruel men harangued

But those short moments when the king
Approached his fate of old
Would linger in the hearts of men
As prophets had foretold

When I see tall, majestic palms
Dressed in bright green array
I think of how our faith was sealed
On that most splendid day.