The human smell of excrement and sweat.
Raucous amusement from screaming multitudes.
“Death to the imposter! Crucify, Crucify!”
Violence desecrates this soon Holy Day.
“Is this your King, King of the Jews?”
Sarcastic, sneering words echoed
through the street of Dolorosa.
“How weak and pitiful he is, NOT dignified!
Someone help him with his cross. Come on!
Someone help him with his cross.
Come on! or he won’t make it up the hill and thus be crucified.
Hey you there! You black barbarian
lend a hand for this ‘royal majesty’”, he mocked.
At first afraid, bewildered and alarmed
by the hate and noise of Romans, Jews alike.
The battered, bleeding man was gently helped
by the Cyrene and the lifting of the cross,
from the bloodied broken back and weeping knees,
“Why are you, King, so badly used?” he murmurs to the man
“With whips, derisions. Why are you mistreated so?”
The man looked into the Cyrene’s eyes with gentle smile,
He whispered, “Be you not afraid dear Simon.
Simply believe I am your King, Messiah, the promised One.
I will not forget you, good and faithful friend
And one day soon you will understand.”