He walked slowly in the crowd.
Each person designated
to call for help and hope
and she touched the hem.
He told stories of seeds and lilies,
each person wanting more;
gathering to hear and ask
for heavenly wholeness.
He shared his quiet space
his moment with his Dad
and thousands crowded near
with fish and bread he fed them.
He stood before Pilate
his heart beating fast
and thronging him his people
egged on, called, ‘Crucify!’
Pierced hands and feet
and failing organs,
jostling for room they scoffed,
‘Get yourself down from there!’
The tomb empty and cold,
he stood in the garden.
Just one waited alone
He called her, “Mary.”
We scorn him now at greater cost.
He stands in our midst to help.
He never will condemn
for love is only love.
