The Cry of the Gospel Donkey

Zechariah nine nine

The Coming King… “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your King is coming to you; He is just and having salvation, lowly and riding on a donkey, a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

“Song of the Donkey” is the first poem Barbara wrote for “Duet for Wings and Earth,” and it is very close to her heart. It came to Barbara as a dream in the night and speaks of her cry to write about, and pray for, those who are in great distress and sorrow.

The Song of the Donkey resonates in my own heart as I reflect on our Lord entering Bethlehem on this holy throne. The cry of the gospel echos from the heartsong of the lowly donkey and I pray that we reflect the humility of God as we bear the gospel across our great nation as our hearts sing,

'Hosanna'!

Song of the Donkey

Lord God, there is much I don’t understand, and to me almost everything is a mystery.

If I could count the stars and give them names, I could tell you why you named me Sorrow; and why my old master beat me every day, so I am marked with stripes along my head and underneath my belly.

Yet, Lord God, you chose me, least of donkeys. You came to the field where I was hobbled for the night; you patted me, fondling my ears; you spoke into my healing welts and bruises and told me that the song of the angels, shepherds and wise men would be incomplete without me!

Now you send me on a journey with my new master, and a woman who is going to have a baby. The woman strokes my muzzle; she makes for me a bridle of tenderness. Each evening the man brings me fresh hay and water; with gentle words, he makes for me a harness of mercy. My ears swivel to the sound of their voices.

Under the majesty of the stars, I trundle along with saddle sores: this is the only prayer I know.

If you had asked me to carry the sun and moon and stars on my back, I would have knelt and tried. But you have only asked me to join my harsh heehaw to the song of the angels. I will sing to you as long as I live. I will open my mouth and bray for the homeless, the lost ones.

Lord God, I have tried to bray your name and failed; but when all creation catches its breath in pain, I cry out Heehaw, and it is the cry of the beaten child, the wheeze of the refugee---

Lord God, I am practising, I am practising all along the road to Bethlehem:

Heeeee....
           haw    
                   H’Jee....

                                 haw...h’s

                                    Jh’eee...h’s   saw  hs

Is it enough?

Lord God, I can almost say

J’eeee
            s’aws.

About the Author

Barbara Colebrook Peace is the author of two poetry books: Duet for Wings and Earth (Sono Nis Press, 2008), which won an award from The Word Guild, and Kyrie (Sono Nis Press, 2001.) She also co-edited P.K. Page: Essays on Her Works (Guernica Editions, 2001.) Her work has been published in major literary journals, and several poetry anthologies. She has performed her poetry on CBC, and in settings ranging from cathedral and university to Word on the Street. Her poetry has been displayed on buses in the B.C. Poetry in Transit programme. She lives with her husband, Terry Peace, in Victoria, B.C. Contact Barbara at:  www.barbaracolebrookpeace.ca.

Mark eleven seven ten

Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their clothes on it, and He sat on it. And many spread their clothes on the road, and others cut down leafy branches from the trees and spread them on the road. Then those who went before and those who followed cried out, saying:

Hosanna!

Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!’
Blessed is the kingdom of our father David
That comes in the name of the Lord!

Hosanna in the highest!”