Entering Holy Week and opening proceedings the day after we raised the palms and sang 'Hosanna'- Savior.
We see crocuses and tulip leafs, piles of wind blown leaves and sand. We meditate on the incomprehensible, God in flesh, dying.
We remember the knee on his neck, him crying 'mama' and 'I can't breathe'.
We remember the nails driven through his flesh, him caring for his mother, him crying 'have you forsaken me' and 'forgive them, they know not what they do.'
Cries heard around the world, the man on the ground of 38th and Chicago, the man on the tree.
Cries echoing now, for justice.
