The sun rose soft on Vatican stone, Where faithful gathered, hearts full-blown. Palm branches waved through morning light, A sacred sign, a hopeful sight.
Then came a hush—a breath held tight, As robes appeared in gleaming white. A figure known, with steps still slow, But eyes alight with Heaven’s glow.
Pope Francis came through trial and flame, From breathless dark, he rose again. With double storm within his chest, He leaned on God, found strength and rest.
No screen today, no distant call But soul standing tall before them all. A shepherd brave, a soul restored, He blessed the crowd and praised the Lord.
A Palm Sunday no one foresaw A glimpse of grace, a breath of awe. For in his smile, the faithful see God’s mercy meet with victory.
