Inside we murmur, corporate:
“Blessed is he who comes in the
name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest.”
Outside,
in a world of exploding sunlight
overflowing with shouting birds,
of green trees smashed against
blue sky,
he comes defiant,
tearing up the morning -
a black angel drumming through
space,
blazoning hosannas through a power
and might,
exulting in Life-force, crouching,
coiled within the Word,
leaning into His Spirit,
blessed and blessing.
Ignorant of murmured ritual,
all unknowing he praises Him
entirely,
is charged with a wild high
ecstasy
honouring the nameless Name.
He does not formalise his love,
or recognise his exaltation;
he does not say with us:
“Blessing and honour and glory and
power
be yours for ever and ever.”
Burning rubber, full throttle,
opening out to glory,
his roaring hosannas have a
greater truth.
(August,
1990)
