Three long years, waiting for the moment to come.
Then the first secret,
a borrowing of a donkey.
A humble, unassuming donkey,
yet a triumphant journey into the heart of Jerusalem.
Waving palms, praising voices,
hailing the new Son of David.
Gripped with excitement, I followed.
The hour had surely come!
This must be the moment we were waiting for.
But no.
Just a look, albeit a look full of a deep sadness,
an all-seeing gaze around the temple.
A quiet departure to the house in Bethany
to the hospitality of Mary and Martha.
What was he waiting for?
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Those angry priests, full of cowardice;
dared not seize him because of the crowds.
Plenty of whispers though
that they were out to get him.
Just waiting for the festival to end.
Religious men? No! Power-hungry hypocrites,
only after prestige and influence.
Lining their own pockets instead of the temple treasury
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Thirty pieces of silver!
A pittance for the life which surpassed all theirs put together.
They thought they could wipe him off the face of the earth.
But they would see.