He comes on a donkey
Horses for war, donkeys for peace
Triumphal entrance, it is named a triumph
A city bowing and scraping, placards for hope
The poorer sort at least, with their palms and desperation,
(The rich and religious are busy elsewhere, minding their schemes and their fear.)
But on the merry street, as scripture foretold
‘See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey’
And donkeys are for peace
And hopeful hosannas
But not for how things are, the placards don’t count
For the Sanhedrin feels sick at mention of a king
And the Romans on edge in this faraway madhouse
And only four will stand by his cross, not a lot
The triumph dissolved and slipping away
Like sand through bloodied fingers, abandoned at source
And donkeys are for peace
And donkeys are for peace
And donkeys are for peace
But not for how things are
