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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Centurio Romanus sum, et nolite flere non commovebitur. I am a Roman Centurion.I do not weep or tremble. But I have wept some bitter tears before this end of week. Yes, I have wept some bitter tears hot rolling down my cheek that wet my bed and wet my beard as I was losing sleep. My Soldiers aren’t well bread, uncouth brutes who spat and struck his head and thorns were stuck until he bled and blood, blood soaked his plucked beard red and on his scarlet robe dark stains of blood appeared. It was my job, just a job to carry out my orders, to execute, to crucify. I was immune to pain, to any anguished cry, to pleadings from the worthless lives of those about to die. It was my job, to put a man to death, to take his clothes, to take his breath, to cast his broken body by. But as my soldiers cast their lots, And gambled for his seamless smock and mocked him with sour wine, just at the time of sixth hour watch, as he was near his final breath and was not long before his death, the sky turned black, the sun had gone. Two rogues hung there beside him, at first all full of insult, ‘til one, who recognised his wrong then turned and made a plea. "Kurios!", he said with great respect, "Lord, please remember me when you come to your kingdom." And then his words surprised me, with great compassion in his eyes, “Today you will be with me," He said, "Today in Paradise.” Centurio Romanus sum, et nolite flere non commovebitur I am a Roman centurion. I do not weep or tremble. I was right there in front of him, his eyes looked up to heaven, He spoke something to his father, asked that I should be forgiven, and then he soon gave up his ghost, and surely, was he not the most unusual man I ever put to death, not one curse or pleading breath, save once he said I thirst. I've stood in front of many, but surely he was the first to chill me to my soul, to make me ask just why this righteous man must suffer, must suffer and must die, But then sky drew dark, and terrified my heart and as I looked and sat at ninth hour of the watch, and rocks began to shake, so also I began to quake, as darkened sky, and splitting rock, made portent for his death, with earth's each trembled shock. And when his head had dropped, and all his writhing and his breathing stopped, I cried out; 'surely this was the Son of God.' And then my soldier came, intent to break his legs but seeing him already dead, he took his spear instead to thrust and prod into his side where blood and water flowed, flowed right down to the ground and those around him beat their breasts and slowly disappeared, save only for the sound of wailing women, kneeling, quite near here. Centurio Romanus sum, et nolite flere non commovebitur. I am a Roman centurion. I do not weep or tremble. My chest has kept a calloused heart more years than I remember. But now my shield is stripped apart, my tears are freely flowing. A sword is thrust, and makes its start on all that is worth knowing. That life I pinned to wood and bark, in me is surely growing. Romanus sum centurione. Ego plorantibus in consolatione, et tremitis ad verbum tuum. I am a Roman Centurion, I weep, and at His word I tremble.
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