n this sonnet, titled “We Palms Bore Witness: Had the People Not Worshipped, Stones and Jewels Would Cry Aloud”, the palm branches narrate their experience during the Triumphal Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. Scattered across the path, they form a green carpet beneath the feet of a humble king riding a colt, surrounded by a crowd shouting hosannas. The palms sense the fragility of human worship, recognizing that had the people not praised, the rocks would have erupted in rugged cries, and the gemstones buried deep in the earth would have shimmered with their own radiant song. From their unique vantage point, the palms testify to the unshakable truth that creation itself—stones and jewels alike—stands ready to proclaim the king’s glory if human voices falter, underscoring his triumph through love and humility.

We trembled, green, beneath the sun’s warm gaze,
Strewn soft across the path where he would tread,
A king on colt, in peace, through cheering maze,
Our fronds a carpet for his crown unshed.
We heard the shouts, hosannas split the air,
Yet felt a hush might fall, a silence dire—
If voices stilled, the rocks would then declare,
Their rugged cries would spark a holy fire.
And deeper yet, where earth hides jeweled veins,
The gemstones pulsed with light no man could claim,
Their song, a gleam through subterranean reigns,
Would rise to hail the king of humble fame.
We palms bore witness to this truth profound:
All earth will praise when human tongues are bound.

The poem urges the wealthy to reject pride in temporary riches, trusting instead in God’s eternal provision. It calls them to share generously, helping the needy, as true wealth lies in good deeds. Through being born again, their transformed hearts turn from loving money to pleasing God, seeking to bless all. Earthly wealth fades before God’s call, inspiring a prayer to give Christ everything.

The rich must shun the boast of fleeting gain,
For wealth’s a gift, not cause for haughty pride,
Their hope rests firm in God, who shall remain,
Not in the stores where rust and ruin bide.

With open hands they’re called to freely share,
To clothe the poor, to lift the low with cheer,
Thus true wealth grows in acts of tender care,
A treasure safe where thieves cannot come near.

Born anew, the rich gain hearts remade,
No longer bound to gold’s unyielding sway,
They yearn to please their Lord in every trade,
And seek the good of all in Christ’s own way.

So wealth of earth fades dim beneath His call,
May we give Christ our all in all.