I was Simon of Cyrene, far from home. - A Poem

I was Simon of Cyrene, far from home.

- A Poem

I was Simon of Cyrene, far from home,

A traveller to Jerusalem’s holy dome.

On vacation, seeking solace and peace,

Unaware of the burden that would never cease.

In the crowded streets, the sun beat down,

A throng of people, a thorny crown.

A man condemned, struggling to stand,

Bloodied and bruised, the Son of Man.

They seized me suddenly, without a plea,

To bear His cross, the weight on me.

I stumbled forward, my heart in strife,

To share the burden of His sacred life.

As we walked, I felt His pain,

A silent witness to love’s refrain.

His eyes, so gentle, full of grace,

In that moment, I saw God’s face.

Through dusty paths, our steps in sync,

Each breath a prayer, each thought to think.

Why was I chosen, what did it mean,

To aid the Savior, to be seen?

At Golgotha, we reached the end,

I laid the cross, my soul to mend.

His sacrifice, a love profound,

In His suffering, hope is found.

Now, every year, I recall that day,

When I met the Lord in a fateful way.

On vacation, yet forever changed,

By the cross we shared, my heart rearranged.

I was Simon of Cyrene, not by choice,

But called to carry, to heed His voice.

A simple man, yet part of God’s plan,

To lift the burden of the Holy Lamb.

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