Being With

I was passing by, pressed and already late.
I did not stop to look. I did not ask.
I could have turned around to investigate.
Going back what could I have done? What task
achieve and really make a difference.
Then it dawned on me: was it really He
strung up there on that hill beyond the fence?
who'd called, who might have really needed me.

“Brother, it was I, dying there that day.
All I needed was for you to come, to be
witness to what was done to me, to stay
and feel with me the pain and agony.
Go and find what it is to be with me
in those being hurt and seek to set them free.”
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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