Goede Vrijdag (2)

door lievendebrouwere

  

SIMON THE CYRENIAN SPEAKS

He never spoke a word to me,

And yet He called my name;

He never gave a sign to me,

And yet I knew and came. 

At first I said, “I will not bear

His cross upon my back;

He only seeks to place it there

Because my skin is black.”

But He was dying for a dream,

And He was very meek,

And in His eyes there shone a gleam

Men journey far to seek.

It was Himself my pity bought;

I did for Christ alone

What all of Rome could not have wrought

With bruise of lash or stone. 

(Countee Cullen)

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