Apr 17 | Wednesday in Holy Week (Poem)

They were happy then.

We were given wine

wherever we walked.

 

Our words were mustardseeds

passed from village to village

 

his stories grew

wild

 

Thousands came to nest in them and stare

crow-voices all together talking

 

In the morning we found him quiet

Sick?

Just tired.

Why?

Never you mind for now.

 

Passover is uncomfortable

Something is missing

Why do we need to remember?

 

Find me a garden, he simply says.

I’d like to stop

by a quiet place.

 

-Clarity

PS Sorry this was a day late, guys. :)