Marilyn Zwicker
Traditional Palm Sunday
But today
Is anything but traditional
All rituals I love
Transferred to a computer
Screen which I watch
With tears in my eyes
I am not wearing a choir robe
I am not waving a palm frond
In a procession
I am sitting in my office
Imagining that false joyful march
To certain death
Every hosanna tinged
With tragedy and resurrection
No longer automatic
Each holy observance
Is a choice to participate
Alone in my home
Or not at all
Pandemic caution mandates
This isolation
I wonder
If I am closer
To the Christ experience
Forced to be myself
Upon my cross
