For this Holy Week, I will share a poem a day. I'll be writing drafts basically every day so don't judge me too harshly if the poems are average.
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Everybody was buying and selling.
Everybody was laying and yelling.
They cut down branches to place below the donkey's hooves; a little smelly animal shuffling to the rhythms of praise. For your King has come on an ass, says the King James Version.
Royalty and donkeys do not mix in the West, but that was the way of Near Eastern Kings. Now, for hundreds of years pockets of people gather to talk about the Jewish prophecies where it was said,
"On a colt, He comes."
Everybody was laying and yelling.
Everybody was buying and selling.
They set up tents and shops in the temple yards for everyone to buy oxen, rams, doves, barley, and everything else Leviticus said should be purchased. I've been to the Middle East bartering markets:
they are loud.
For your King has come, your King has come with rage in His eyes, says the Desire of Ages.
Royalty and judgment mix well in the West, but this whip brought in all the Eastern low lives. Now, for hundreds of years, East and West gathers together to talk about the accuracy of the Jews, and the story the story of the man for whom
they laid down their robes.