PALM SUNDAY
And now
After the scourging
After the pillar and the slap on the face
And how everyone tried to capitalize on
My devotion
And I tried to make it fit in
There is the procession of palms
We’re all holding fronds
And none of us is dancing.
Catholics want to sing
They want to jubilate
But who knows how?
Here in the Midwest
Where the daffodils push up through the ice
What counts, what’s best is to be nice
In our khakis and Oxford blue shirts
But I want to be intoxicated
God when you rode an ass into the church
When you drove out the changers and the ushers
And the priests
And everyone carrying on
Trying to be something
Carrying on their backs carcasses
And corpses
And corpses
Of names
And titles
And dignities
Lord,
What I did was take off my shoes
And take of my tie
All dignity flies
In the face of something more
That after searching
Scourging
Reading
Fasting
Resisting
I just want to be crazy
I just want to be mad
I just want to wander and sit on the floor of your house
Drunk with jesus
And everyone who sees us
Will think we’re mad
And that could be the end
“There is a tree” they sing
“There is a tree”
on a green hill…
and if this ecstasy kills
then is there room on your cross for me?
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