It was a peaceful march that day,

Throngs waving palms, almost joyful,

Chanting their hosannas—

Blessed Be!—

But how quickly waving palms become

Tidal waves, turning, churning, 

Tables overturned, anger rising,

Gods become scapegoats

In the fear-gripped face of fundamentality;

Trampled palms and bodies


Alexandria, Tanta,

London, Paris, Charleston

Orlando, Istanbul,

Gothenburg, Herat—

And on it goes

And the cry rises

hosia na! Please

Save us!

Palms lie,

Crushed and bloodied,

Desperate eyes dart frantically about;

Hoarse, dry voices still cry

Hosia na!

Save us!

Ah, but who in heaven,

Who on earth,

Is listening?