Sweetly Chastened

Sweetly Chastened

(“Do not be afraid, people of Zion; look, your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt!” John 12:15)

The breeze snuck up on me like the girl in
third grade who kissed my cheek and then
ran away.
I don’t remember her name. But I remember the
spot on my face where I blushed. I remember the
coolness on my forehead where the breeze stopped
me for just a moment.

I used to dream of kings. I used to dream of answers
that would solve household dilemmas. I used to dream
of days sitting on Crow Flies High Butte where you could see
upriver all the way to Montana and
hope I would see God.

And now I live on another river. I am Washington on one side,
you are Oregon on the other.

I used to speak like spirit was algebra, I used to write
like God was like the boulder the river erupted around as
it bent its way to the sea. I used to sing like the
answer could be found in
a secret chord and a name that, mentioned just once,
would bring all the horrors of nightmares to their knees.
I could cast the demons out of everyone else but
me.

I lusted for authority.

In Sacramento they trim the palms two weeks before Easter.
Five years in a row I gathered them so children and grandparents
could shout “Hosanna”. And then go vote for Republicans a few
months later.

In Minneapolis the pulpit thundered and a thousand people
were berated for
not being more like the donkey that Jesus rode upon, not being
willing to be his beast of burden.

Today I sit sweetly chastened. I am ready to meet the king
who drives a vw van. I am ready to meet the prince who walks
on the sand. I am ready to meet the lamb who subdues the lions
that undo the work of the Spirit. I am ready to be, more or less,
unknown so that

The king may be known in me.