Saturday we protested
A wannabe King
Poked fun at the beast
Outraged by orders:
Illegal and cruel.
Voices challenged violence
And belittling people,
The ridiculous work of
Heavily armed bullies,
As we proclaimed as one,
We want – No King.
Sunday we waved palms in the air
Asked a man to be king
Begged him save us …
From violence and want,
And plots we don’t see,
Or is it from ourselves
We seek to be free?
We celebrated his coming,
And played our part,
Hopeful as children
Right from the start,
The image of us.
Imagined the triumphant march
Down Jerusalem’s streets.
Sang songs of the season
And birth of a kingdom,
Led by a man riding a donkey,
Orchestrating a parade,
Mocking our ghosts
Offering new freedoms,
In the flesh of a human.
His revolution –
Rhymes in history
Ironic patterns lost on sheep
Too busy grazing to even look up.
We entered our nave,
Spread wealth and religion
Before an altar carved
By hallowed tradition.
The story felt as real as it is old.
Alternate facts?
How downtrodden people
Might work together
Reign in mercy
Protect every neighbor
Even more the stranger
Living as kin.
A revelation beyond reason —
To defeat mighty Caesar,
And his well trained army,
Courageous and happy to die for
The son of god –
An incredible feat.
Like the one we reviled on Saturday,
Making America great
Defeat after defeat,
Establishing his power,
Shining white,
Trimmed in gold leaf.
A broken record – Déjà vu,
All over again,
Wrapped in old glory,
Denying faults,
Killing the innocent,
Detaining others:
Black and queer –
Demanding the end of
American Independence.
The seeds of heaven’s hope
Planted long ago by prophets and sages.
Named living water to quench human thirst:
Trust and cooperation.
Abel plowed dry dirt
Anxious for rain
Offered up grain.
Cain envied easy acceptance
Thought him too giving
Rose up and killed him
Marked us with death
Left us in darkness.
Full of envy and fear
Like his descendants
He wanted salvation quick.
Cain built walled cities,
To show off his power
Guarded the gate from those
He thought other,
Though quite similar.
All signs of difference feel disturbing,
Lead us astray,
Finding scant progress
In the human race:
Pull up weeds,
Burn up wheat.
With a desire for Eden strong,
And not knowing the cost,
We believe it should be gifted,
Since we are the chosen;
But mana from heaven
Turns deadly poison
Kept over night.
So we eat the crumbs
Brushed from tables of tyrants,
Scattered around perfumed feet,
As the master and his minions lounge,
Drinking our wine,
Eating lamb.
We beg for a favor
Shake off losses
Call it living.
Get to the vineyard by seven
Harvest grapes, bring in the wheat.
Spare no time to bury our dead.
Believe dreams come true,
Fantasies too,
Sold to high bidders.
Shout hosannas
To chosen Messiahs,
Rarely check sources.
Forget love means serving,
Not jockeying for position.
Yes, love feels scary
Risky and vulnerable,
When divided by others
We endanger disciples
Who live in the open.
Show love heals,
Offer forgiveness
Burned as torches.
Bold speech in hungry cities
Where judgement wears purple with honor
Requires sacrifice of victims.
Told to ignore signs of suffering -—
If one dream dies,
Dream up another.
We pass the peace,
Catch a glimpse of love’s longing
In eyes of church goers,
Hold them close for a moment
Find some relief,
Believe once anointed,
We gain heaven’s protection.
No thought of ends
Kind but obtuse.
Scared to death
Tired of losing,
Hard to believe a Messiah could love us –
Hold space for our blindness,
And mistakes made Monday.
Once the liturgical mystery
Full of symbols and ritual,
Became our drama,
It revealed to believers
A story of hope,
Said plainly –
The plan for a future kin-dom
Fell apart Friday
Expectations crushed
In time for Passover,
To answer three questions.
What made this night special?
Truth doubted in moments of crisis
A king crowned with thorns
Murdered with scorn
Deserted by his own.
Facing love’s execution
In fear and trembling
We watched our dream
Die like a criminal
Nailed on a cross.
Complicit with horrors,
Scared like Cain,
We built a high altar,
Edited our story
Weakened forgiveness
Created a new dogma
Added rules for judgment
To earn redemption
Obscured our failure
Behind walls of submission.
Today we trudge unclean streets in sorrow
While merciless soldiers
Armed to the teeth
Continued their beat;
Like followers of Rome
Herding sheep to slaughter
Then sacrifice children
Before idols of gold.
After thousands of years
The evidence is harsh.
The sons and daughters of man
Bleed from an old wound
Deep in our side.
Lost on Good Friday
Mourned in darkness Saturday
Saw an empty tomb Sunday
Greeted sunrise ringing bells.
Woke up Monday, still bleeding profusely,
Changed the bandage,
Wondered can life
Love itself back,
After we beat it to death
Buried the body
Covered the tomb
Under a large stone :
Hiding the truth.
Alternative version revised
THH
4/3/26
Thoughts Have Hands 