A little boy, no older than twelve
weaves throughout the crowd.
Palm branches brush his face as the throng cries aloud.
"Is this who comes in the name of the LORD?
Will the kingdom be now restored?"
The boy pushes ahead
to catch a glimpse of a man
no older than thirty
who holds the world in his hand.
His father deems him a prophet;
His mother, the Christ.
Might he be the star of Jacob,
who will light up the night?
"Is this who comes in the name of the LORD?
Will the kingdom be now restored?"
A little boy, no older than twelve
weaves throughout the crowd.
He hears shouts of "Crucify! Crucify!"
ring out aloud.
He pushes ahead
to catch a glimpse of a man
once welcomed, now forsaken.
He didn't quite understand.
"Is this who comes in the name of the LORD?
Will the kingdom be now restored?"
"Come, boy, let us be on our way.
No need to see what will soon take place."
For off in the shadows of the fortress
a rugged cross awaits.
Quinn R. Mosier, quinnmosier.com, April 5, 2020
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