Donkey, Little Donkey by Susan L

  It was my delight to have another poem read at church. This time a young girl did the honour and an amazing job of reading. Here's the long version. (Thanks go to those who put the images on the internet.)

Donkey, little donkey, 

Tied by his mother’s side,

A stallion by the right of birth,

Full of male pride.

      He drifts awake and dozes,

       Dreaming donkey dreams,

       Of when his kind ran freely,

       Sipping mountain streams.

This half grown colt, a youngster,

Has yet to reach full size,

His lack of life’s experience,

Is seen within his eyes.

       Many hands take hold of him,

        Driving him apart,

        Far from all known safety,

       Away from his mother’s heart.

He bucks.  He brays.  Resisting,

Against this driving force,

His fear of unfamiliar things,

Taking on its course.
       At last he comes to Jesus,

       Whose hand so gently calms,

       The donkey’s blinding fear

       With a touch of loving palms.

He whispers something in his ear,

Then softly climbs aboard,

The colt, not knowing men before,

Proudly bears the Lord.

       Jerusalem they enter,

       With pomp and circumstance,

       Palms are thrown before them,

       The donkey takes a chance.

Stepping out, stepping on,

Strange and scary things,

Great ears flicking all about,

His eyes are white-rimmed rings.

       His baby heart is racing,
       The crowd a roar to fright,

       It’s only in the knowing Christ,

       That made his courage bright.

No whip, no chain, no bridle,

The donkey did restrain,

The Spirit led this little one,

A Holy Guiding Rein.

In three days, men call again,

The donkey they did need,

To pull the cart where Jesus was,

Released from His final deed.

     This time the fellow goes along,

      Sensing their grieving heart,

      The Holy Spirit spoke with him,

      His was a needed part.
All grown up, he takes the shafts,

Pulling the cart away,

His precious Lord behind him,

No rejoicing this day.

     He’s led into the saddest place,

      Where Christ is laid to rest,

      He knew within his donkey bones,

      He had done his very best.

Returned back to his master,

A trio of days did wane,

The little donkey wept with loss

Unknowing of the gain.

      The earth, that dawn, began to shake,

       He was really terrified,

      An angel came to comfort him,

      Standing by his side.

His heart was filled with quiet joy,

As the earth began to sing,

The heavens rang with angels’ song

“Glory to the King!”

      At last he truly understood,

       The price which Jesus paid,

       His voice joined up with angels,

       To men, he simply brayed.

So, honour Jesus’ donkey,

And the journey which he made,

For upon his back and withers,

The Holy Cross is laid.         



  Thank You, Lord for the inspiration and for Your grace as I took artistic licence with the story found in Mat 21.