Palm Sunday

We hold in our hearts a prayer

For all who walk alone; for all the vulnerable;

For all the church doors, once open, now closed;

For those who've died, and for all the ones who loved them;

For all the ones still working to serve,

And all the ones who now are unemployed;

For all the colors, slowly being leached

Out of a world awash in grief:

We no longer wave our palms,

We simply wash them,

Over,

And over.