Palm Sunday (Benediction)

It was not the branches waving wildly before him,
Or the humble beast burdened with Eternity.

No,
It was his hands.

Those palms,
Upon which are inscribed the name of his beloved.
Those palms,
That bless and break the Bread of Life,
Offering the Cup of Covenant
For all to receive.

“Were you there?”
Dried leaves and rags ground into dust,
The sad echo of “Hosanna”
Like ash on your tongue.

And, still
There are his hands.

Those palms,
Covering all our sin and shame.
Those palms,
Securing us in faith and in hope,
Freeing us
To live
And move
And have our being
In Love.