Sorrowful Mystery - #4 -Carrying Of The Cross Poem by Carmela Patterson

Wood of a cross!

That is what they have made of me.

Taken from a mighty tree, they splintered me and formed me into a cross. They bring me to a man who will carry me.

He hardly looks as though He could carry much; He is a beaten man, weakened from tortures of which I know nothing except that they are mocking Him and heaving me across His shoulder.

My whole weight is upon Him as He drags me across the ground.

With each stone I am scraped over, I dig deeper into His flesh opening a new wound on this already bloodied body.

Why are they doing this to Him?

I see wailing women as we pass by.

I see men with soulful glances.

No one is able to do anything to stop this torturous journey as I begin to realize an innocent man is dragging me inch by painful inch.

It is not me who wishes to penalize this man but I am causing Him great pain and it hurts me to know that the weight of my wood is torturing Him. Blessed relief, an unwilling man is ordered to help Him carry me.

The innocent man would have died right here, had not the Cyrinian been ordered to help.

The arduous journey continues.


© Mel Patterson,2004