Holy Week

Every year I think Holy Week will be different.  And it is.  And it's not.

I like to think

This week will be different.

It began with a pony.

Today I sit

In a different place,

Tomorrow yet another

Different place.

And so it goes.

Holy Week is always different

Yet somehow still

The same.

Seven years out

Of running Holy Week

(as if anyone ever runs

Holy Week)

Seven years out

Again I slip into

Holy Week mode.

It began this year

With a pony.

I know the story,

How the story goes.

I know the ending.

Thank God I know

How it ends.

Pony

Palm Sunday and the donkey from the last couple years was rented to another church before we got to her.  So this year we had a pony named Duchess.  Our family consensus is that temperamentally Duchess had Molly the donkey beat, hands down. 

The week began

With a pony.

She was sold

As a donkey.

But

The donkey from last year

Made other arrangements.

So the week really began

With a pony,

Palms and a pony

Named Duchess;

Palms,

A lovely pony

By the name of Duchess

And a parade.

The donkey will never know

What she missed.

Exsultet

St. Mark's didn't reserve Molly the donkey in time, so we will have a pony (or some sort of cross-breed) this year for Palm Sunday.  No worries... we have already reserved Molly for 2015.  At staff meeting I found myself asking about who would sing the Exsultet at the Easter Vigil.  Would you like to do it? came the question.  So the Palm Sunday procession will be led by a pony, and I will sing in the Light of Christ at the Easter Vigil.  A new kind of Holy Week.  We will see where it goes from there.

Lent this year

Has meant the recalibration

Of my brain,

The welcome

Of a new kind of spring.

It has meant

The recognition

That Jesus will ride

A pony this year

Rather than

The requisite donkey

In the Palm Sunday procession.

Lent this year

Has meant the practice

Includes the descent

To dark places,

The ascent to the final light.

This year

At the end of Lent

I will exalt the Light

In the Mozarabic tone.

I may figure

What Resurrection might mean

Even to the tone

Of riding in

On a pony.

Pony

The new medication was making me dizzy.  Finally I stopped taking it.  Halfway through I realized the dizziness was only part of it.  Blurred vision was another piece.  Then I realized the pony had been missing
for weeks.  I didn*t even see the pile, or that digging was a possibility.  I forgot I could look for the pony.  Or that I am a pony person.  Now I hear him again.  And I remember that I forgot.

I am a pony person.

There is always a pony buried

In whatever pile I find.

I only have to dig deep enough

To find the pony

Everywhere.

I keep digging

Until I find him.

He is always there.

When he disappeared,

I did not notice

He had gone missing.

Now I hear the soft nicker

When everything is quiet.

I did not notice

He had gone missing.

Now I hear him.