A Poem for Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday: A Sonnet

Now to the gate of my Jerusalem, 
     the seething holy city of my heart,
     the savior comes.  But will I welcome him?
Oh crowds of easy feelings make a start;
     they raise their hands, get caught up in the singing,
     and think the battle won.  Too soon they'll find
     the challenge, the reversal he is bringing 
     changes their tine.  
I know what lies behind
     the surface flourish that so quickly fades;
     self-interest, and fearful guardedness,
     the hardness of the heart, its barricades,
     and at the core, the dreadful emptiness
     of a perverted temple.  
Jesus come
     break my resistance and make me your home.

“From Sounding the Seasons, by Malcolm Guite, CanterburyPress 2012”