My son, my son, do you not know this is

Breaking my heart?

There I see you, my son the king,

Led away to battle with no armor.

My son the king, you ride a new

Colt and come with empty hands.

You break bread, not bones.

You are no soldier sacrificed

But a kingdom savior. My son,

When the donkey breaks the

Palm frond beneath you do not think of

Your rib cage. When the coats

Are striped with kicked dust do not

Think of your stripped back,

Of the blood. Of the blood

That will pool beneath your feet

Like the mud beside the Jordan.

When the people call you Blessed,

Remember that you are.

When the people crown your head,

Plead with them to see me.

When the people scream for your blood,

Remember they are my children also.

Look up, my blessed son the king.

Look up into the sky

And know that all time and movement

Have brought you here.

This city for which you wept will

Shout with joy. You enter

Victorious, soon to triumph over

Death. Those who will kill you

Are not the enemy, they are

The lost.

As you ride this road, meet

Their eyes. Think only of them.

And think of me.

Jewell Holland