Plastic Glory

On this Western Palm Sunday let this whole big multi-faceted Hope Diamond of a Church ask itself if we aren’t living in a 2,009-year long Palm Sunday together.

Hosanna chanting,

red rug runners unwrapping,

dressy faces beaming,

no one dying

to be going through that hair-narrow gate all alone.

The party with no pain

is only plastic glory

about to melt

when we reach the twirling flaming swords

that surround the cherubim-guarded tree of life.

May your wooden week be holier than