Sunday, April 1, 2012

I Am Not Who You Believe I Am

Noon sun dapples through fronds
waving in almost orchestrated motion,
the wind replaced by human arms, and hope.
I am not who you believe I am.

The donkey is not the most comfortable
of rides; he bobs and weaves, unused
carrying a rider on his inexperienced back.
I am not who you believe I am.

The crowd from Bethany walking behind,
the Jerusalem crowd walking toward meet
in an enthusiasm of excess soon to howl for blood.
I am not who you believe I am.

Cloaks and palm fronds are strewn before me,
mixing with hosannas, all those symbols
of victory and peace and change and desire.
I am not who you believe I am.

I am more.

Photograph: Colorful palm leaves by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.


David Rupert said...

I think we still want to make Jesus out to be someone that he is not..

Megan Willome said...

I like that last line. It's so easy to shortchange Him.

JofIndia said...

Great, Glynn.

And I think David Rupert has "hit the nail on the head". We still try to make Him into something less, something more in our own image, something far less demanding and far more manageable.

He doesn't really ask us to be willing to give up everything, does He?

He would want us to put a little aside for our family, our mortgage, our pension, wouldn't He?

Unknown said...

He is much more....

Beautiful poem bro'!

S. Etole said...

Silenced by the implication of your words.

Anonymous said...

good one.

diana said...

Thank you, Glynn. Exactly. And so well said.