Janeen R. Adil’s Road to Jerusalem from last years Palm Sunday celebration is the stones’ story. Did you ever wonder what would have happened if they had a chance to sing? She shares this here this year giving full permission for anyone to use it.
What, you ask, of me and my kin?
Well, I can tell you that one of us
pillowed Jacob, receiving in return
oil and remembrance.
And that many of us fixed the corners
of the great Temple, secure and square.
Or that some of us – flashing brilliant
colors – jeweled the priests and kings.
I can tell you too of my own place:
part of a countless ordinary multitude,
trodden underfoot, or kicked, or cursed
along the dust-laden way to the City.
I was not created for your glory, but for
the steps of travelers and animals, a most
simple use: a dry bone of the Earth,
stone broken from stone.
And I can tell you that on that one day
and from a distance he seemed but another
weary traveler, surely nothing new to note.
Yet a noisy crowd came too, raising loud
shouts and cries, as they slowly approached.
The road itself began to stir, with
palm branches taken, waved, laid beside us
for the man’s grey donkey to walk upon.
A king, they called him! And I heard the old
prophets’ echo: your king will come to you,
humble and riding on an ass, as the people
cried out with loud shouts: “Bless us! Save us!”
Then the man was rebuked.
Some with authority in their voices said to him,
“Teacher! Tell this crowd to be silent:
let them hold their tongues.”
The man paused then, and the donkey’s
front hoof drew to a stop beside me.
He spoke to the fearful ones, a reply to the
ones who thought to chastise.
And as the man said this, he looked full at me – me!
– and I thought to crack with longing.
My kin and I, oh, we had waited for this moment
since Earth’s stony frame was set.
Let them be silent! I begged him.
Then will I cry out with praise!
But the man, the donkey, and the crowd passed on.
My own hosanna was not heard that day.
Yet although no voice was permitted me,
somehow I was sure its sound had filled his ears.
I will wait patiently for him then, along this road.
Perhaps he will return from Jerusalem.
Perhaps he will pass this way again.