I was minding my own business
on my way from here to there.
(I was not one of his disciples,
stack the bibles and I'll swear.)
Yet when I was accosted
by a Roman with a sword,
I was forced to bear the Cross-
as certain "points" can't be ignored.
The way was steep and rocky
and the cross beam hard to bear.
On our way up He was silent,
perhaps lost in silent prayer.
There were sounds of women weeping
and jeering Jews who came from town.
I was glad to reach to summit-
relieved to lay my burden down.
It was only then I saw His face,
beneath its thorny crown.
He thanked me for my labor
with a kindly look and word.
I said a blessing in return,
but I wonder if he heard.

Yes, I recall the day quite well
when our paths crossed, then diverged.

His eyes burned in my memory
as I stumbled on my way.
I did not stay to watch Him die
but I was there that day.