He never spoke a word to me,
And yet He called my name;
He never gave a sign to me,
And yet I knew and came.
At first I said, "I will not bear
His cross upon my back;
He only seeks to place it there
Because my skin is black."
But He was dying for a dream,
And He was very meek,
And in His eyes there shone a gleam
Men journey far to seek.
It was Himself my pity bought;
I did for Christ alone
What all of Rome could not have wrought
With bruise of lash or stone.
Leave a guest comment (subject to review)
Comments
-
excellent
From guest Cassassin (contact)
so is he saying that simon the Cyrenian was black? or is he implying that he is like a black man? i have no clue! but it is a wonderful poem, very well written. -
Aw, this is such a beautiful poem...The rhyming was great. I absolutely loved the first stanza...Very thought provoking and flowing very nice. Well done to this poet!
~Lana
-
This is one of the best poem that i have ever read.
Adding your comment:
