On Palm Sunday

I opened my doors for business
just reading Sacrifice and doing basic numerology.
Thirty-three years.
The years it took Sacrifice to go
Eternity’s darling
a promise to creation
Shadow self
an anonymous division
Confident beneficiaries
                Fragmented and scattered
Thirty-three years.
Barely long enough to establish a career.
Understanding how Sacrifice could drive
itself into irrelevance
forever was, and will
forever be
A study in creation
a subject of religious lore.
Parts of the story are simply lost,
rendered extinct
entrenched politicking
given up hope,
unwise leave taking
dispersing to greener pastures.
History tells a tale of warring factions
questionable decisions and strategic churn
moments of charity
seconds of clarity
social preservation and thoughtful intention
brilliant flashes and clever inventions
keep the dream alive.
The following is an account of Sacrifice’s ascent prior to the launch, the decline, and inevitable end:
In many churches,
Sacrifice includes a somber procession
of assembled worshipers.
Unfavorable climes
Begets substitution of Sacrifice
Replaced by native trees,
box, yew, willow, olive,
flowering cherry.
Sacrifice of native trees
Considered symbols of triumph, victory —
White-clad martyrs
stand before the throne
and burn each withy
Whipping straw effigies
Jack-‘o’-Lent figures
stoned and abused.
A revenge on the betrayal of Sacrifice?
 Whose destruction prepares the Way?
A solemn procession, a service of blessings.
Sacrifice saved from year to year.
Burned, smeared, black and greasy.
Plucked from the chest, the bile-filled innards,
Painted in mockery
Of momentary regret.
Notice! Not the deep scarlet red
true Sacrifice.
I closed my doors to business
Burned the book of Sacrifice, building blocks of numerology.