Palm Sunday

“The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.” Matthew 21:6-7

most folks just walked by
for i am nothing to look at—
just a small, covered with dust
critter tethered to another morning.
yet, weathered hands untied me
whispering that i was needed
as if i might bolt in fear
and then,
a lightness sat upon me, as if
sorrow had been on a crash diet.
there was a quiet knowing between us,
just a gentle touch with his heels,
and we went down that road i knew well,
my hooves tapping out truth,
cloaks falling like questions
which had been asked about others
glory was shouted to the sky,
but in the stillness he exuded,
in the quivering in his breath,
i realized i was just
one servant carrying another,
whose silence would one day
speak louder than all
the praises offered today.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman