The Crowd – Sixth Sunday in Lent

When one has been walking alone
the presence of a crowd distracts
But one cannot approach the City
without being part of the Crowd
Here within the boisterous mass
the children pushing their way forward
the curiously idle observing from the rear
the hucksters peddling popcorn & postcards
the pick-pockets bumping their clueless marks
the dusty`dry sojourners wearied from the way
it’s hard to tell the pilgrims from the day`traders
But then again even the pilgrim isn’t exactly
certain why he came all this way himself
So it is the crowd gathers A Parade
begins to wend its way through the suburbs
From each neighborhood a few more
Sunday afternoon saints with more time than sense
begin to straggle along behind the Iron` scented Man
the not`too`tame Coyote trailing now at his heels
And as they weave along the crowd begins to sing
its own weird version of ‘God Save the King!’
I wonder Did I really sign on for this?
It’s beginning to feel a little like a bad movie
I am a mystic A poet looking for peace of mind
These people are sounding more like a manic mob
on their way to a political rally at City Hall
But it’s hard to get out of a flowing stream
Even a slow current carries one faster than
the feet can find the footing of the shore
It’s easier to simply let the stream take you
where it wills And the stream has its own will
We are all in the end history’s debris borne
by the current to the intersection that is the cross`road


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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3 Responses to The Crowd – Sixth Sunday in Lent

  1. sounds like a congregation of liberals


  2. kiwiskan says:

    the modern Palm Sunday. Love this poem – as I am enjoying each one…

    Liked by 1 person

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