A couple of years back, I shared a movie with you about a saint who called himself “God’s jackass.” Leave it to G.K. Chesterton to write a poem for Palm Sunday from the point of view of the ass.
by G.K. Chesterton
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.
From what I’ve found out, this was written before he converted officially to Catholicism. Where did I find it? From none other than the good folks over at Universalis. You never know what you will find when praying the LOTH over there.