“Stony Silence”: a sonnet for Palm Sunday
I am a rock and you may think me mute,
Beside the gateway to Jerusalem.
I see each person walk, I hear each foot,
That enters in the gate time and again.
Today is different; history is here.
Folding in upon itself this week.
A chosen colt is ridden, that I hear
Was taken by some men who came to seek
A foal that would be by the master used.
And from the past I knew what I must do:
The truth will out; they cannot be confused.
I’ll sing out praise- that will be something new!
But now, no need: I hear hosannas ring.
They wave palm leaves and welcome in the King.