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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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This post first appeared on Catholic 24/7, please read the originial post: here

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

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