Grand Entrance

In the painting by Duccio,
Jesus rides into Jerusalem.
The disciples crowd behind him,
each with his own gold plate
for a halo.

The crowds gesture, astonished,
hands over hearts, pointing to the sky,
arms extended. The elders seethe.
They all have the same face, the face of
the artist's father or his churlish patron
or the master who beat him.

Zaccheus, that wee little man, is up a tree,
jammed between branch and trunk,
looking far ahead for the cops.
The donkey that Jesus rides paces
patiently, her bemused face mirrored
in the foal beside her.

Jesus rides into the city
of ivory towers, turrets, and porticos.
The shouts of the crowd become
the cries of gulls: he is by the shore again,
that night of waves and lightning,
him stepping from peak to trough to peak.
He was strong, then, joyous — lifting and hurling
the storm. "Don't be afraid!" he called out then.

Now, just ahead, there is a bronzed
and tarnished door to a darkness
wide enough to take a man.

He raises a hand: we believe it
to be a blessing.

2 thoughts on “Grand Entrance

  1. I’m frequently in wonder as I read your word pictures, but rarely comment. But I simply had to convey that my mind smiled as I read how Jesus was strong, then joyous, as He lifted and hurled the storm. Thank you for continuing your writing in retirement, a sort of exhaling, rather than just inhaling to benefit yourself — though I think that’s important and well-earned, too.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s